


Once I find the other side of someday

by hopelessly_me



Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, Bucky does not like Jersey Shore, Bucky is trying his best, Bucky needs a hug, Clint has terrible taste when it comes to dating and crushes, Clint is a ray of sunshine, Happy Ending, Lucky is the best dog, M/M, Mexican Pizza- you are missed, Mistaken Identity, Protective Bucky, Protective Lucky, Snarky Clint, Supportive Clint, Teacher Clint, Winter Soldier Bucky, a lot happens in less than a week, blanket fort, dismissing feelings, everyone loves lucky, forgiving Lucky, on the run bucky, probably toeing the line of Stockholm syndrome, scared Bucky, sympathetic Clint, terrified Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessly_me/pseuds/hopelessly_me
Summary: Clint was looking forward to a boring summer spent fixing up his house and spending as much time with his dog as possible. As he is toweling Lucky off from the rain, a distant gun shot sent the dog sprinting off into the surroundings woods. When Clint finds Lucky, his dog isn't alone, standing not too far away from a man propped up against a tree, a gun aimed at Clint.There goes his quiet summer.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 40
Kudos: 121
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For my Winterhawk bingo square G3 "Normie!Clint/ Winter Soldier!Bucky" <3

One year ago:

“ _The video footage scene below was taken in Washington DC. At this time, we have very limited information to go on and are waiting for more intek. However, we can see a clash between Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America, fighting against-”_

Clint looked up at the television and watched the clip as it was playing. The bar he was in was too loud to hear what was being said and he was forever thankful that the owner turned on the closed caption whenever he saw Clint walk in. Clint was startled the first time the owner of the bar did it, pleasantly surprised and feeling impossible warm and cared for. Now this was the only bar Clint bothered with. It was nice finding a place that didn’t mind catering to someone’s disability.

He watched the shaky camera scene of Captain America fighting the masked man, and saw the people around fighting against the Avengers present. The tentacle skull symbol was odd in and of itself, but the fact that these people were targeting the Avengers was even more odd. Sure, there were bad guys everywhere, and Captain America was a huge target, but so out in the open during the daylight hours? It was ballsy.

The bartender got his attention and Clint smiled. _Leather legs is hot_ the woman behind the bar signed. Clint couldn’t help but to laugh, shaking his head. _You live there_ she signed.

Clint shook his head. _N.Y.C. Never D.C. Been twice. Pizza not good._

The woman behind the bar exaggerated rolling her eyes at him before she got him a glass of water. She blew him a kiss before she went on to the next person. Clint still wasn’t sure when Kate learned how to sign- she rarely talked about herself outside of her romantic life when the bar was slow and Clint could safely turn his hearing aids in without getting a headache from all the noise. All he knew was the owner of the bar had a brother that was deaf. 

Clint looked back at the screen, at the still photos the news was putting up before he caved and dug his phone out. _Winter Soldier_. That’s what the news had called him. It was the same still photos, but this way Clint could look at the details. He wouldn’t exactly call the man in the photos hot by any stretch of the word. Maybe it was the leather ensemble that Kate liked, or the impressive thighs the guy was sporting. Thinking about it, it was probably the metal arm because that _did_ look interesting as hell.

But all Clint could see was something horrifying. A muzzle-like mask over his mouth, dark makeup around his eyes, and greasy, tangled hair like it had been neglected for… Clint didn’t really want to think about how long. And there was a blankness in those dark blue eyes that pulled at Clint’s heartstrings.

A message popped up on his phone and he opened the text before he rolled his eyes and turned his phone back off. Barney again- same brother, new number, same dumbass shit. An offer to do something bigger and better, a way to make more money. It was like the circus shit all over again. There wasn’t a day that went by that Clint wasn’t thankful that the circus had been found out and Clint was put into a different group home than Barney, was made to go to therapy, was placed with a foster family that actually gave a shit. He was thankful that he was given the opportunity to turn his shitty life around and make something of himself. And sure- maybe being a teacher wasn’t the most glamorous job out there, but it was honest work, and it was rewarding.

Not a day went by where he regretted moving to a small town to start over. Clint found a place Barney wouldn’t be able to find him. Clint found a home where he can start over, where he could call it his without someone claiming they helped him with it. He had a dog now, something he had always wanted growing up but was never allowed to have. He was doing his part to try to make the world kinder, softer, and it _felt good_. 

Kate waved at him and Clint tilted his head with a lazy grin. He was making friends here in Michigan. Or maybe acquaintances was a better term since it wasn’t like he really hung out with that many people. Soon he would be starting his career as a kindergarten teacher at a local elementary school, he was going to meet more people, make more friends. He was hoping to finally be happy and put his roots down.

_Drive me home_ Kate signed. _Shift over._ Okay, maybe Clint had a predictable routine now. Ever since he found out Kate’s car was broken down, Clint offered to pick her up from work twice a week, making her life just a little easier. He promised at some point he would help her fix the car up- he wasn’t a mechanic but he knew his way around a car, at least enough to be dangerous. _Get shit food. M-C-D._

Clint smiled and shrugged signing _whatever_ before he picked his glass up. Kate busied herself getting ready for shift change. Clint glanced back up at the television. They were still talking about this Winter Soldier, about Captain America. In the back of his head, he hoped even someone like that guy could maybe find something good worth giving all of that crime up for. What was life without having a small bit of faith in humanity, after all?

  
  
  
  


Present Day

Clint wiped his forehead off, leaning back and away from the small garden bed outside. It was another scorching day outside, the sun refusing to hide behind any clouds until well into the afternoon when Clint _knew_ it was going to rain or storm- it was too hot and humid to suggest otherwise. All Clint knew was that his garden beds were looking pathetic because he was avoiding being outside in the heat as much as possible and he was beginning to feel bad about it. So he forced himself outside to pull weeds and try to decide if he could save the plants for certain doom.

The only one currently not complaining was Lucky. Clint caught his dog running around like the beautiful idiot he was, chasing after what Clint hoped was a butterfly and not a bee again. While puffy face Lucky was adorable, the vet bill wasn’t as attractive. Clint watched his dog for a few minutes before he caught sight of the garden hose. _Well this is going to be an adorable mistake._

Clint whistled as he got up, not bothering to brush his hands off. Lucky’s head popped up, his ears perked. Clint grabbed the hose and moved it well away from his garden beds. Lucky came prancing over, bouncing on his paws, dancing around Clint in anticipation. Clint turned the hose and started spraying like a mad man. Lucky was running and jumping, trying to catch the water. Clint knew he shouldn’t be doing this, Lucky was becoming a muddy mess, but it was worth it seeing how happy Lucky got.

That was, naturally, until Clint accidentally lost the hose. He dropped it and before he could pick it up, Lucky snatched it. “No! Lucky! Leave it!” Clint begged before he started running, trying to avoid getting completely soaked. In true Barton fashion, he slid in slick grass and nearly face planted. Clint flipped over onto his back and laughed, pulling Lucky close to his chest. Lucky’s tail was going a mile a minute, giving happy whines and a dozen kisses. Clint got up slowly.

“Alright, come on. Let’s hose off, boy. Best boy. Good boy,” Clint cooed, Lucky following along his side. Clint spotted dark clouds rolling in, and he knew Lucky wasn’t a fan. Clint ditched his shirt on a clothesline, calling it a temporary loss. Making quick work of the task, Clint hosed Lucky off and encouraged him to follow him to the porch where a towel was waiting from yesterday’s shenanigans. Clint knelt down and started rubbing Lucky dry, cooing at him the whole time. Lucky preened over the attention, his tongue lolling out, occasionally giving Clint kisses.

Clint was thankful that he had the entire summer off. He had paid down his debt enough where he didn’t have to get a summer job and could survive on his teacher’s salary alone. It helped that his brother had owed him money from when their parents died and the house sold, not that there was much but it was enough for Clint to put a good down payment on a run down house that he was slowly fixing, and his car was paid off. He figured if he really needed the money he could always get a part time job in the city- he was avoiding that idea like his life depended on it. Anyway, part time work meant less Lucky time, and so far, three weeks in, Clint was loving every moment with Lucky that he could spare.

The last year had mostly been a peaceful one. Clint managed to get through his first school year in his new district. The last day of school was bittersweet but also told Clint that he was doing what he loved. He avoided talking to his brother as much as possible, not answering his phone when it was a number he didn’t know. He had a group of friends now, traveling around Michigan and Ohio- they went to trivia nights, bars, hikes, anything they could get their cars to. It was exactly the kind of life Clint wanted for himself.

The sound of a gunshot startled Clint while jolting Lucky, who took off towards the woods like a rocket. “Lucky! Hey!” Clint called, standing up quickly, his heart racing. “Lucky boy! No! Come! Come, Lucky!” he shouted, racing down the stairs. 

When Lucky disappeared into the woods Clint felt a sense of dread overcome him. There was no way on Earth that Clint was going to leave his dog out to fend for himself. However, the sound of a gunshot had rattled Clint enough to give pause to how smart it would be to run through woods he didn’t really know yet. A distant flash of lightning got Clint in motion, running to his clothesline and grabbing a shirt at random, pulling it on before he ran for the woods.

He wasn’t really sure what the rules were, here. Should he be shouting? He felt like the answer was yes, because he needed Lucky to come back to him. But then the inkling of fear seeped in. What if someone was murdered? What if there was a serial killer? Clint was pretty sure Lucky the Pizza Dog Extraordinary wouldn’t be able to ever truly fend for himself. All the thoughts running through Clint’s head were turning more dark and he was pretty sure his hands were shaking.

“Lucky. Come here, buddy,” Clint called as the sky opened up. Clint looked up and blinked and began frantically calling for his dog. “Come on, buddy! Lucky! I’ve got pizza! More than just the crust!” Clint called out, begging his dog to appear at the mere mention of pizza. Clint flinched at the lightning overhead, coming to a pause before he heard some whining, followed by a few light, pathetic sounding barks.

Through some overgrown brush and trees, Clint found Lucky and stopped. Laying propped up against a tree was a man, wearing some tactical pants and a beat up short sleeved shirt, some kind of vest fitted over top. What gave him pause, however, was the dulled metal arm with a bright red star, a gun aimed right at him. Clint raised his hands slowly, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

“H-hey,” Clint said awkwardly. The man stared at him, making no effort to talk. “I just- I’m just here for my dog. Please don’t shoot me.”

Clint saw Lucky’s hair raise up and briefly heard a bark before he heard the gun go off, saw a flash, and Clint held his breath. The pain never came, he didn’t crumble, but his ears were ringing like crazy. He hadn’t noticed the moment his hands flew up to grab the sides of his head, nor did he know when he had ducked. All he knew was that he was looking at the woodland ground, trying to force himself to breathe as he shook.

Slowly he pulled his eyes up from the ground and looked at the man, his arm lowered, the gun against the ground. Clint took a shaky breath before he looked behind him and nearly lost his lunch. He scrambled a few steps away from the body, tripping over Lucky and falling, squeezing his eyes shut to try to gain some sense of composure.

_What in the hell is going on?_ his mind asked on repeat. Just when he would catch his breath the bile would rise again and he was back to holding his breath. _I have to go. I need to run_. He knew whatever was happening was bad, very bad, but his legs were still wobbling, his arms feeling like jelly. A flash startled him out of peace- he had forgotten about the thunderstorm.

He hadn’t heard the moment the man had gotten up, or even noticed his approach, but he felt when a hand grabbed around the back of his shirt and dragged him like he was nothing. Clint was left scrambling for purchase.

“No, no, please,” Clint begged as the man lifted him. His back hit the back of a tree and Clint’s nails dug into the bark. “I won’t say anything. I won’t call the cops, just please-”

The man shoved him. Clint stumbled and the man pointed in the direction Clint had come from. _Okay, this looks bad_ he thought. With sea legs under him, Clint stumbled his way through the forest. Lucky was tucked against his leg, and Clint really wondered what the dog could possibly be thinking about. He didn’t look too scared, his tongue lolling out as he looked up at Clint.

“It’s okay, boy. I’m okay,” Clint told Lucky, mostly for his own sanity. “We are just… we are going to go back home, okay? And then we are going to… we’re going to eat dinner. Well, change first, then dinner. And then we are going to… we’re gonna watch television until we fall asleep. And everything is going to be okay.”

The man trailing behind him didn’t make a sound. It was unnerving to Clint. For a moment Clint was concerned that his hearing aids had stopped working suddenly, but he could hear the snapping of twigs under his feet, hear Lucky’s panting. The man just didn’t make noise, which was only increasing Clint’s panic.

The clearing came almost too soon and Clint looked at his house. He stopped and went to turn around before he got shoved forward again. It was almost too familiar, a memory from twelve years ago, and Clint balled up his hands to stop them from shaking too violently. He tried to put a little steel in his backbone, took a deep breath and tried to make himself bigger as they got closer.

“I will literally give you my keys, man,” Clint said. “Give you a few days before I report my truck as missing. I have- I have a credit card. Well, two. But I swear, if you just let us live, I won’t do or say anything to anyone.”

The gun pressed into his back and Clint climbed the stairs up the front porch, feeling the tears forming before they clouded his vision. He opened the front door and Lucky raced in, going straight for his water dish. Clint stopped not too far inside and heard the door close. Clint’s shoulders started to shake and he bowed his head, squeezing his eyes against the tears.

A hand touched his shoulder and Clint jumped, looking at the man. He pointed to a kitchen chair and Clint walked over wordlessly, defeated. He sat down and put his hands on the table. For what it was worth, the mystery man gave Clint an approving nod before putting his gun away and going through the cupboards. Clint watched him pull things out, turning them in his hands and putting them back.

“I can make something,” Clint whispered. The man turned around and looked at him. “Food. I can cook. Just, uh- not with the gun out. Please.”

It was the first time that Clint was _something_ in the man’s eyes. For a brief moment the pulled down eyebrows rose before they settled back to a blankness. He turned back around and grabbed a family meal from the freeze and read the box before he looked at the stove. Clint watched the process silently. Within a few minutes, the meal was in the oven, the timer set, and his guest was standing by the window, looking out.

“You’re bleeding,” Clint commented. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there was blood soaking the back of the man’s jacket. It was painfully silent except for Lucky going to town on a bone. It was starting to make Clint’s skin crawl, his hairs standing up. “Look, can you maybe not bleed in my kitchen? You know how hard that shit is to get out of, well, everything?”

The man turned and Clint stared back at him. He was intimidating, sure, but Clint’s nervousness gave away to irritation. His father had always said Clint never knew when to keep his mouth closed, something his brother had reminded him of constantly years ago. And if he was going to die anyway in the end, he figured he might as well be an ass while he could.

Clint eyed the man as he seemed to be doing the same. He had stubble growing from what Clint assumed to be a four day unshaven face. He wasn’t exactly soft, his jaw set tight and his eyes still staring into Clint. The stranger grabbed a glass and used the faucet for water, taking a long drink. Then he walked, unbuckling the straps to his vest and letting it fall away. As he passed, Clint could see the gnarly scarring around his shoulder where flesh met metal and he averted his eyes.

“Don’t move.”

It was a firm warning and Clint took it seriously. He might be willing to push the envelope, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. The underlying threat was there and Clint really, _really_ didn’t want to die. At least not like this. So he sat in his spot, unmoved, his eyes focused outside as the rain thumped off the window, the soothing rush coming from the roof. It was almost soothing enough where Clint could be lulled off to sleep if it wasn’t for whoever the hell was in his house.

Lucky came trotting over and dropped a toy next to Clint, tail wagging. Clint smiled and leaned down, picking it up. “Hey boy,” he said, turning in his seat to play a spirited game of tug-a-war with his dog, who was growling up a storm. Clint launched the toy into the living room, Lucky flying that way. When he looked up, he spotted the man and leaned back in his chair. “... done bleeding?”

The man didn’t say a word. He went back to his spot near the window and stood guard. Clint observed him for a minute before Lucky came running back. However, instead of heading straight to Clint, he headed straight to the man. “Luck- Lucky, no,” Clint said, his heart rate increasing. Lucky brushed up against the man as close as he could get, and sat, dropping the toy and barking up at him. He looked down at Lucky and slowly lowered his hand until his fingertips touched the top of the dog’s head and he looked back outside. Lucky’s tail was sweeping the floor at the simple gesture and Clint relaxed. _He can’t be completely bad- he’s almost petting my dog._ It was an odd thought to have at that moment, but it was the only hope Clint could currently cling to.

The timer went off and the man left the window long enough to pull the dinner out of the oven. Clint watched as the man looked confused at first, then looked around for plates and silverware. It took a few minutes before a plate with a small portion of lasagna was placed in front of Clint and the man sat across from him, inspecting the food.

Clint looked down at the food in front of him. There was no way he was going to be able to eat, not with his nerves the way they were. He didn’t attempt to pick up his fork, didn’t attempt to ask if he could get a glass of water for himself. He mostly just watched the man across from him as he finally picked up a fork and ate his first bite.

For the first time since he ran into the man Clint felt a pang of familiarity. Something was back in his brain, teasing him. _I should know this man._ It was festering, frustrating Clint. He didn’t know why he should know the man with the shiny arm but he did. Maybe he didn’t know him but recognized him from somewhere. His mind flickered back through the few short years he was in the circus, trying to think of who he would remind him of, but he was coming up short handed. Even after the circus and in the group home, his foster home, he had no memories of meeting someone like him. They appeared to be relatively close in age- maybe a few years off but not by much.

Those dark blue eyes found Clint’s and Clint sat frozen in his seat. He should look away, maybe even down and at his plate, but he couldn’t stop staring. The starting contest went on for a few breaths more before the guy sitting across from him offered up a forced, lopsided, half smile before he tucked back into his meal. Once those eyes left him, Clint was able to look elsewhere.

The silence was broken when Clint’s phone went off. The man across from his startled before he scowled. Clint looked at his phone, saw the face on the screen light up before he looked at his captor. “I… I have to take this,” he said nervously.

“No.”

“If I don’t she will come here,” Clint stressed. “Please. I don’t care what happens to me, but I don’t want Kate involved.” It was a half lie. Clint did care what happened to him- he didn’t have a death wish. But above all, he did care what happened to Kate. She was his best friend.

“Fine.” The man pulled his gun out with a sigh and Clint froze. “Tick-tock.”

Clint grabbed his phone and put it up to his ear. “Hey Katie-kate,” he greeted. If the circus taught him anything, it was to put on a good show. It was almost easy to slip into that mindset where everything was okay and to smile brightly for the guests. Clint kind of hated it even though it came in handy more than what he cared to admit.

“ _Hey. America and I are thinking about taking a spur of the moment trip up to the U.P. for an extended weekend. Go hiking, fishing- okay, yeah,_ ” Kate said, and Clint could almost hear America talking in the background. “ _She said she wants to do that kayaking thing by the rocks. Anyway, want to tag along? I’m sure you can find you a fine, upstanding boy or girl up there to rule your world or whatever._ ”

“Please don’t try to hook me up with people again. The last time was a disaster,” Clint groaned. The man sitting across from him looked almost concerned, which was a weird look to be greeted with. “Sadly, I have to pass. I have my foster parents coming in a month and I need to get the house fixed.”

_“Lame Barton_ ,” Kate said. “ _Can’t you take four days off from being an adult?_ ”

“I can’t. You know how important this is to me,” Clint answered. “I owe them a lot, I want them to see and think that I’ve actually made it. That I surpassed expectations and I’m doing well for myself.”

Kate sighed heavily on the other side of the phone. “ _Fine. Be lame. Oh hey, can I drop my car off when we leave? It needs an oil change and I think the brakes are going out.”_

Clint was silent for a moment, his eyes locking in on the man across the table. Clint’s lips twitched for a moment. “Yeah, you can drop your car off and I can do that for you I suppose. You owe me though.” The man across the way from him stiffened in his seat and Clint felt like his voice was going to betray his nerves. “I am serious this time, Kate. Pizza. Drop the car off with pizza.”

“ _Alright._ ”

“And the parts,” Clint said sternly. “I don’t want to have to drive your crap car around to buy your parts.”

“ _Excuse you, but Beatrice is in better condition than your car_ ,” Kate argued.

Clint faked a gasp. “You take that back. Bucket is the best there is.”

“ _You sit on a throne of lies,”_ Kate groaned. There was more talking in the background. “A _lright, I have to go. America is apparently starving. I’ll drop Bea off in three days_.”

“See you then,” Clint said and he hung up the phone. The man sitting across from him watched Clint with narrowed eyes and Clint reluctantly put his phone down. “Look- if I said no, she would _know_. She would assume something is wrong. So unless you want to meet Kate and have her assume we are dating, that was my only way to-”

“Bucket.”

“My truck,” Clint answered. “It’s full name is Trash Bucket because-”

Clint pulled himself to a stop. The man looked almost horrified, his eyes widening and his jaw going slightly slack. And then there was sadness and Clint recoiled back as far as his chair would allow him to. His hand quivered before it tightened around the gun, steadying it. Clint held his hands up, stopping himself from bolting.

“Whatever it is- I won’t say it again,” Clint said. “Please just- just lower the gun, alright?”

The man seemed to refocus, his face going back to that blank slate. Clint had been terrified of that expression at first, but he almost preferred it over the mixed emotional state looks the man seemed to do. He looked so haunted in that moment before he built himself back up. The gun lowered before he slid it across the table, off to the side but still in arm’s reach. Clint lowered his hands back down to the table.

“Eat your food,” the man across from him says, his voice gentler than it had been before.

“Not particularly hungry,” Clint said, not out of defiance but honesty.

“I’m not making more later- once it’s packed, it’s packed.”

Clint felt a hint of irritation peak. “So pack the fuckin’ food away and I will deal with it when I actually have a goddamn appetite.” That seemed to startle the stranger, but his hand didn’t move towards his gun. “Look, my nerves are all over the place man. I can’t think, I’m afraid of getting shot. I don’t know who the hell you are. I can’t eat. I’d probably throw up anyway.”

The man mulled the information over in his head before he nodded. “Understandable.” He got up, putting the gun away. “No guns.”

“You going to kill me?” Clint asked.

The man looked like he struggled with the question. “No,” was the final answer. “No. I get to make that choice now. So no.”

The plate in front of him disappeared and the stranger went looking through cupboards again before he turned a container in his hand and started to pack the food away. _I get to make that choice now_. Something about that statement hurt Clint, but he couldn’t figure out why. It was so heavy and filled with determination, like it was something the man had waited for. It was a different kind of nerves firing in Clint now. He was still scared- the guy seemed rather unpredictable after all. However, now he was curious about what exactly that statement had meant.

All Clint knew was that the rain had given away and the sky was filled with orange and purple, dark yet stunning. At some point, Clint had lost track of how much time he had been outside with Lucky, with how long it took to find his dog, to find this man, and was held captive. Just seeing the sun setting meant that it was well past eight and unlike most nights, Clint felt completely and utterly exhausted. The stranger in his home was now washing the dishes he used.

Clint looked around the place he called home. There was a couch and a chair, neither in the greatest condition but they had been cheap and were broken in and smelled like autumn. He had throw blankets everywhere- a few on the couch, one on his armchair, two by Lucky’s bed. He still hadn’t managed to find lamps he liked, or fixed the ceiling fan properly, so the lighting was a little on the darker side; he told himself maybe one of these days he could actually set a fire in the fireplace, that he just needed to Youtube exactly how you set a fire in the fireplace without burning down the home. He knew he had two beds, one for himself which was much like the couch and chair, and another that was more comfortable that he saved for guests. He knew he should be using that bed, that it didn’t take long to change the sheets and everything over, but he had slept on worse. Maybe that was his problem- Clint was used to so much worse that anything above that was luxury.

It might not be a lot, but it was warm, it felt like home. Every photo he had tacked up on the wall was memories of the good times. Every worn book cover, every picture hanging on the fridge, on the walls, from his kindergartners- it had made him feel _good_. Every creak and groan from this old house made Clint feel safer than he should.

Clint hadn’t noticed when the stranger turned to watch him but he noticed as soon as a metal hand was on the table, pulling Clint’s attention back to the current situation. “You have ten minutes to do whatever it is you need to do before bed.”

“Not gonna be enough time, pal,” Clint replied.

“Make it enough.”

Clint moaned and groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Look- even if I wanted to, I can’t. I have to take Lucky out, change, brush my teeth, and get my hearing aids charging. I need to go check-”

“You are wasting your own time. Prioritize.” Clint glared at the man, who only shrugged. “Nine minutes twenty seconds.”

“Fucker,” Clint said, pushing himself off. He whistled. “Lucky!”

If it wasn’t for the fact that he turned, he wouldn’t have known that the man was following his every move. Clint nearly ran into him when he left the door open for Lucky to go outside and grabbed onto his arm to catch himself. Clint froze in horror for a moment and pulled his shoulders up, waiting with closed eyes. It was better to not see it coming, whatever it was.

“... can you let go of me?”

Clint opened one eye and looked at the very confused man. “Right. Right. Sorry.” Clint let go and stepped back quickly before he nearly darted up the stairs. He grabbed a change of clothes, pajamas he only really wore when he was on vacation or had guests over and went to the bathroom. Before he could close the door and boot wedged itself in there.

“No.”

“What? You can’t mean-” Clint asked in shock. He was met with the same blank face. “... fuck my life. _Fine_. But not a word.” Clint put his clothes on the sink and pulled off his shirt first only to hear a faint whistling. His face turned red and his head snapped to the side and he could _swear_ he saw a brief moment of amusement playing out on the man’s face. “You aren’t funny.”

Clint changed and used the bathroom, which he was thankful was met with the man _not_ watching him. By the time he got downstairs and got Lucky inside, he felt more exhausted than he had been. He locked the door and leaned against it, his head rubbing about the surface for a moment.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Clint turned and looked at the man. “What?” he asked tiredly. The man reached up and tapped his own ear. “Oh… oh shit. How much time-”

“Go get them on the charger. Is it in your room?”

“Yeah,” Clint answered. The man tilted his head back towards the stairs and Clint went. He pulled his hearing outs out and turned them off before he found their charger, taking care of business.

By the time he turned, his exit was blocked. The man looked around the room then pointed over to the bed. Clint silently sat down and watched as the man checked his windows, locking them, drawing the blinds. Then he did something Clint wasn’t expecting. _Lay down_. 

_You can sign_ Clint asked.

The man shrugged. _They made me learn. Helpful when you cannot talk._

A chill went through Clint again. _They made me learn it_. That weird phrase was burned into Clint’s mind. Just like him saying he had choices now. It crawled under his skin and stuck there like a sliver. 

_Lay down. Time for bed._

Clint didn’t bother to argue- he felt ready. He laid down after calling Lucky up and grabbed his blanket. He turned and watched as the man sat down against a wall, making himself comfortable. Clint looked at him for a minute before he turned to face the other way. He pulled the blanket up closer to his chest as he curled up, wishing he could look out of his window.

It wasn’t until Lucky moved up, putting himself as the little spoon that sleep came easily. Clint buried his face into Lucky’s fur and wrapped an arm around his dog. All he could do was wait and see what was to come next.


	2. Chapter 2

_Leather legs is hot_ _Clint watched Kate sign before she tilted her head to the television. Clint looked up at the grainy video and he felt his heartbeat a little faster. He was on top of a car and hopping down. Clint had to hand it to Kate- leather thighs didn’t look terrible but there was just something so sad. He couldn’t put his finger on it._

_ He was fighting Captain America and Clint felt like he wanted to shove his hand through the TV to put a hand on the man’s shoulder to stop him. He thought that maybe, just maybe, the man might even listen. It was a weird feeling pouring into Clint’s body, like he knew the man somehow. Clint sat frozen as he watched the fighting. _

_ It wasn’t until the man turned to face Clint that fear jolted through him. _

Clint startled himself awake and felt his body tense up, his leg cramping, but he didn’t move or make a noise- at least he didn’t think he made a noise. His heart was thumping painfully in his chest and he wanted to roll over, grab his chest and try to take a breath and calm down, but he just couldn’t.

_ No. No, that can’t be right _ Clint tried to tell himself. The man in his dreams was the man from the video from over a year ago. The Winter Soldier. Nothing was known about the man- he seemed more like a horror story than an actual person, someone created to scare people into behaving.

But it was him- Clint knew it had to be him. He looked a little different now, his hair was pulled back into a bun, although it was still greasy. He looked softer than he had in that video, but when Clint had first met him he saw the same eyes- the same deep anger, the blankness. The arm was a dead giveaway, and Clint couldn’t figure out how he hadn’t put together all the pieces before.

He was sharing a house with the Winter Soldier. Before Clint had fallen asleep the night before he thought that maybe the man was just scared and injured, that he wasn’t a threat to Clint. But with the new knowledge in the back of his head, Clint couldn’t help the fact that his fingers felt tingly as they shook.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Clint slowly rolled onto his back and turned his head, shocked when he didn’t see the stranger in his room. Clint frowned and sat up slowly, his eyes scanning the room.  _ Oh no _ . Lucky wasn’t in the room either. That sick feeling washed over him as Clint carefully stood up, trying to make the least amount of noise possible. He grabbed his hearing aids and put them in, adjusting them as he turned them on. He was met with silence.

“Lucky,” Clint whispered helplessly, trembling as he headed for the door. He touched the doorknob and turned it slowly, surprised to find his door unlocked. “Lucky,” he tried again as he peeked his head out of the room.

_ Maybe yesterday I was sick and didn’t know it. Maybe my head made all that up. _ It was unlikely but Clint was hoping for a more positive outcome.  _ Okay but being so sick you imagined a man isn’t exactly healthy Barton _ .

The next thing Clint knew he heard a door open and heard a soft scrambling downstairs. Clint looked down the staircase as Lucky came bounding inside and disappearing, likely disappearing to his water bowl. And then he walked in, looking calm as could be. He closed the door behind him and pulled off one of Clint’s jackets.

_ He is wearing my clothes _ Clint thought. He recognized those threadbare blue sweatpants- he loved how soft and baggy they were. And while that shirt wasn’t exactly his favorite shirt, Clint knew it was his. Clint watched as the man disappeared into the kitchen area.

_ Lucky is okay. That’s a good thing. _ Now Clint just needed to slip out of the back, or even the front door. His neighbor was just over a mile away- if he really put his all into it he thought maybe he could reach that house in eight or ten minutes. He would be winded when he got there, might want to pass out, but he could alert authorities, or at the very least bunker down.

Clint slowly crept his way down the stairs, instantly regretting that he didn’t think to grab something he could throw or hit the assassin with. He paused before he got to the last stair down and tried to peek around the corner. The man in question was at the sink, washing the dishes, not making any noise aside from that. Lucky was sleeping on the floor near his feet. Next he looked to the door. It was locked, but not bolted. It would take him an extra three seconds to unlock it, no big deal. So he tried to steady himself- he told himself that Lucky would be fine, and that as soon as the man knew Clint was making a run for it that he would likely run too.

_ Okay- you can do this, Barton. You have been through- okay, so you haven’t actually been through worse than this but close. All you have to do is run and keep running _ . Clint took a deep breath before he bolted for it. He had the door open in no time and he jumped from the porch, missing the two steps before he landed and took off.

It felt like freedom for all of a minute before he was tackled down to the ground, face planting  _ hard _ . Clint didn’t stop, doing his best to try to roll over and kick the man away from him. He lasted all of maybe fifteen seconds until he felt an elbow come down on his head and his world went black and fuzzy for a moment, his ears ringing. He was being dragged up to his feet, and he stumbled a few steps, his legs threatening to give out from under him. He was pretty sure his nose was bleeding, or maybe it was his lip, he wasn’t quite sure.

“I’ve been fairly tolerant up until now, Barton. Don’t make me kill you.”

Clint wasn’t even sure what tolerant meant at the moment. What part of this whole experience was being tolerant? Maybe it was because he hadn’t been bound yet, and the thought of being tied up scared him more. He didn’t even bother to question how the man knew him- a part of him didn’t want to know.

They reached the house quickly and Lucky stood on the porch with a worried look. Clint gave him a weak smile before he was shoved inside the house. His head was pounding and now he could feel the sharp aching along the arm and shoulder that had connected with the ground first- even his knee felt like he was going to have regrets for the next week.

“Sit down.” It was an order followed by a hand roughly pressing down on him, forcing him onto the couch. Clint leaned back against it and forced himself to keep his eyes open. He moved away, just enough to grab something from his vest.  _ Zipties _ . Clint didn’t bother to question it as he held his hands out.

The tension was back in the air. Clint let his hands fall into his lap once the assassin was done zipping off his hands and he laid back with a heavy sigh. He watched as the man walked towards the kitchen but it appeared like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Lucky watched nervously before he walked to Clint and jumped on the couch, laying down with his head on Clint’s lap.

“So what is your game plan, Barton?” The Winter Soldier asked. “Did they send you here? Did they know I was heading this way?”

“I don’t have a clue what you are talking about,” Clint said.

The man turned and that cold look was back in his eyes as he marched over, on a warpath. Clint did his best to keep his muscles loose. “You think I find this amusing?” he asked.

“I am telling you, I have no idea what you are talking about,” Clint said firmly. “I don’t know who  _ they _ are. I’m going to assume the skull and tentacle people but I don’t know who exactly-”

He was hauled off his ass and Clint hissed in pain. Just as fast as he was hauled up, he was being let go as a flash of muted gold zipped by and Clint’s eyes widened in horror. “Lucky no!” he shouted at the same time the dog attempted to sink it’s teeth into the man’s metal arm. Clint fell backwards in the chaotic moment as he held his breath.

And yet the man didn’t do anything besides, as gently as one could, fling the dog off of him and towards Clint. Lucky stood ground, planting himself firmly between the two as Clint watched in horror.

“Please don’t hurt him,” Clint whispered. “Please- he’s all I’ve-”

“I’m not going to hurt the fuckin’ dog for being a dog, Barton!” the Winter Soldier snapped.

Clint reached out and touched Lucky’s haunches before he moved his hands up and grabbed onto his collar, pulling him back just as the assassin took a few careful steps backwards. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, trying to calm his dog down. “It’s okay, boy. It’s fine. I’m okay. You can’t- you can’t bite people though.” Clint buried his face into fur as soon as Lucky sat down. “You bite someone and they might take you away from me. Can’t have that, buddy. Not when it’s just us.”

Clint didn’t bother pulling himself together around the stranger. His hands were shaking still from the adrenaline, the fear that in that moment he was risking losing his best friend. Everything was shaken from the start to his miserable day to this moment. All this worrying had led up to a point where Clint was petrified to try anything but wait and see what was to come.

“What did they do to you?” the Winter Soldier asked.

“I am telling you, I don’t know who  _ they  _ are,” Clint said, his voice tight as he held back the tears. “I don’t- I don’t even know how you know me. I’ve never met you before in my life.”

“We worked together,” the man insisted, “Trickshot.”

Just the mere mention of the name had Clint freeze in fear. It brought back memories that could turn his already shitty day worse. He could still remember hiding behind the cops, his legs about to give out as they had their guns trained on his former mentor as the man shouted every hurtful thing he could at Clint. But the one part still stung the most.  _ I knew you didn’t have it in you. You were always good for nothing _ . He could remember them hauling his brother away just as the medics got Clint onto a gurney.  _ I knew you were a no good little bitch _ .

He heard a soft growl come from Lucky and he opened his eyes to watch the man crouch down to look at Clint. Clint stared back for a moment before he had to look away. “I stopped- I got away from him when I was thirteen. I haven’t seen him since,” Clint said, not bothering with the tears. “Buck- he was-”

“What?” The man almost looked horrified.

“Buck Chrisholm. Trick Shot. He was- he taught my brother and I how to shoot,” Clint explained. “But I’m not him. I never would be. I’m not…” Clint shook his head. There were a lot of words going through his head. He wasn’t a criminal, he wasn’t callous, that he wasn’t good enough.

He looked back at the assassin who looked perplexed, a little spooked. “No one gave first names- it was code not to say full names around me,” he admitted. “But I know for a fact that Trickshot was called Barton. And you sure as hell look like him except your hair.”

Clint felt the ice run through his veins again as an uncomfortable realization sank into him. “Oh God, Barney,” he said in horror. “My… my phone. Can I-?” he asked. The assassin reached back and pulled out his phone and slid it over. Clint leaned forward and picked it up, scrolling until he found a photo and pushed his phone back to the man. “That’s… that’s my brother. Barney. Everyone always said we look alike except I’m taller, a bit leaner, and I have blond hair like my mom. He… he kinda looks more like our father.”

The man picked up the phone and looked at the photo but he sat back on the ground. All the tension he was holding in his shoulders was gone and he looked tired. He set the phone down in his lap as they quietly avoided conversing. Clint leaned back against Lucky, his hands running through his fur until Lucky calmed down enough to lay down, his head back in Clint’s lap. The man sitting across from him hadn’t moved at all as he looked at the ground.

It wasn’t until Clint’s stomach betrayed in him that the man across from him looked up. Clint didn’t make a move or a sound. “Stay,” was the command he received as the assassin stood up and left him in the living room. Clint watched him for a moment before he looked down at Lucky, petting his head until the dog calmed down again.

Clint looked up from Lucky and was taken back. It wasn’t that his house was messy yesterday- he had things scattered about like normal, but the house wasn’t littered with trash. But he hadn’t noticed that the blankets in his living room were neatly folded, hanging over the backs of the couch and his chair. The mess on his coffee table was tidied up, papers in a stack with a weight on top of them, his planners and books in a pile as well. Lucky’s toys looked to be picked up and in their box, which Clint meant to train Lucky how to do but so far hadn’t succeeded. 

He dared to lean forward to look into the kitchen. The man was cooking something, Clint wasn’t sure what. A part of him wanted to ask if he could make coffee- coffee made everything in life better, more tolerable, but he was afraid of what the answer would be. At least coffee might help with the pounding headache enough where the other injuries might actually matter to Clint.

The assassin didn’t so much as notice when Clint inched his way to the coffee table and slowly pulled down his planner marked “first quarter”. He figured if he was stuck in the living room he could at least get some work done. Just because it was summer break didn’t mean Clint had a break. However, planning classroom work was harder without his phone to help look up new teaching skills that might benefit his classroom.

“Come eat.”

Clint looked over at the man in his kitchen before he looked back at his schoolwork. He got maybe twenty minutes in, which was going to have to be enough. With a sigh, Clint slowly got his body up and moving, sitting down in the same chair he had sat in the night before. Lucky was following him out, glued to his side.

“What does Lucky get at lunch?” the assassin asked.

“One cup of dry food and a half a container of his wet,” Clint answered. “I can handle it if you’ll let me.”

He was promptly ignored. The assassin went into a closet that Clint didn’t know he had discovered and started getting food out. The first thing he did was grab one of Lucky’s favorite treats. Clint watched as Lucky hesitated, looking at Clint before back at the man before he slunk forward. The man held it out, drawing the dog in closer and Clint felt his own heart rate pick up. As Lucky took the treat, the man used his metal hand to pet the top of Lucky’s head.

“Sorry, boy,” the man said, just loud enough for Clint to pick up on. After that, he got around the rest of Lucky’s food, refreshed the dog’s water, and then plated their lunch, setting it down. It was nothing fancy, not that Clint had fancy food at home- it was two grilled cheese sandwiches on each plate. “One moment.” He took out a knife and Clint stared at it before the man came to cut away the zip ties, his shoulders pulling up and he turned his head and looked away. He fiddled with his wrists once they were free.

“Can I make coffee?’ Clint requested.

“Isn’t that a morning drink?” the man asked.

“Your soul knows when it’s coffee time,” Clint answered, trying to smile a bit as he said it. The man only nodded before he tucked into his meal. 

Clint slowly got up before he was on the move to make his first pot of the day.  _ Morning drink. The hell is wrong with this guy? _ Clint knew there was a list of things wrong with the man sitting at his kitchen table, but coffee only being a morning drink? He didn’t realize he was living with such a monster. The smell of the coffee brewing alone made Clint salivate.

He pulled a mug down from the cabinet and filled his mug to the brim. He took a deep breath, taking in the aroma, before he chugged his first mug like his life depended on it. He stood there in complete contentment for a moment before he filled his mug back up and went back to the table. He groaned as he sat, his hip and knee not showing him any sort of love, and he settled in his spot.

He looked up to see the look of a very stunned Winter Soldier. “What?” he asked.

“You are going to die of a caffeine-induced heart attack.”

“If that is the way the world wants to take me out then I am perfectly fine with that,” Clint answered. He picked up his first grilled cheese and took a bite before he sank in his seat, slouching pleasantly. He closed his eyes, enjoying the flavor for a moment. It was a damn good grilled cheese, even though that might be the hunger talking.

When he opened his eyes again, the man sitting near him was fixed on Clint’s coffee mug. Clint looked at him before he looked down and immediately felt like he was back in dangerous territory again. He hadn’t thought about what mug he grabbed, but sitting between them was a Captain America mug. Clint’s mouth twitched as he struggled to think of the words he wanted. He settled on saying nothing at all, eating his food at a slow pace.

It was a weird sort of tension in the air now. It wasn’t electric, it didn’t taste like danger, but it was sad, promising to rip someone, or both of them, apart. It was a delicate balance between needing the quiet to think, to calm down, and needing noise because Clint hated the silence more than anything. He glanced up a few times at the worn out face across from him- he looked haunted in some ways, a storm of emotions brewing just under the surface and refusing to let it out.

When he did finally look up and notice Clint’s gaze, that storm broke away to guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said, shifting in his chair.

“I’m not going to say that it's okay because it definitely isn’t,” Clint answered.

“Stay there.” It wasn’t so much of a demand this time as a suggestion. The man got up and left the kitchen, leaving Clint alone to finish up his second mug of coffee. 

With his headache slowly ebbing to a dull roar, Clint felt like he could finally take a mental inventory of his pain. His whole right side felt like it was out of sorts. His shoulder and wrist were killing him, but not as much as his knee was. He didn’t dare reach up and touch his face, too afraid of what that might look like. At least he knew that his nose wasn’t broken, and that was a small blessing.

The man reappeared with the first aid kit and set it down on the table. Clint watched as he walked over to wash his hands before coming back, opening the box. Clint held his breath at the first alcohol pad, closing his eyes.

“You do that a lot,” the man commented.

“Do what?”

“Not watch. Your body tenses up like you are ready to get hit,” he informed Clint. The cool pad touched his face and Clint flinched. Clint kept his mouth shut; he wasn’t about to tell the Winter Soldier his sob story. “Someone abusing you?”

“Only you currently,” Clint said without much thought.

“Sorry.”

“Been through that already,” Clint said before he opened his eyes to look at the man. The other man looked like the storm was starting to brew up again.

“You got a name?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Clint. Clint Barton.” Clint hissed in pain at the cut above his eyebrow, a little deeper than he had expected it to be.

“Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot,” Clint pointed out.

“Yeah, well- I have a lot to apologize for,” the man said as calmly as could be. “This one is going to hurt. Do you need-”

“Just do it. Please,” Clint said.

Clint hadn’t expected the level of gentle this man could be. He held Clint’s chin lightly with his metal hand, angling Clint’s head to get a better view as he cleaned up the wounds. His expression died down to something softer as he worked. His fingers brushed along Clint’s face as he changed from alcohol wipes to tweezers to a damp washcloth.

“I should have known you weren’t him,” the man spoke up. “Your brother… you called him Barney?” Clint nodded in agreement. “He never would have came up with a backstory like this. All the teaching supplies. And he isn’t that big on animals.”

“He’s kind of a dick,” Clint agreed.

“He joined a Nazi organization. Of course he is a dick,” the man said in a flat tone. He must have sensed Clint’s statement that ran through his head. “I didn’t join them- not willingly.”

“We gonna talk about it?” Clint asked.

“No.”

“Figured not.”

They went back to being quiet as the man finished up on Clint’s face, turning and angling his head to inspect every inch of it. Then he grabbed Clint’s arm gently and worked on the scratches there. He pulled a chair up closer as he went through, checking for little fragments of gravel.

“How did you get your dog?” he asked. Maybe he needed something more than silence too.

“I was still living in New York at the time. He was a street dog, and I was trying to win him over so I could take him in,” Clint explained. “Then one day as I went to find him a group of people tried to mug me. Lucky, he- that was the first time he came to my rescue, tried to take the threat down. The first, and only time before today, that he had bit someone.” Clint nearly jerked his arm away at the feeling of tweezers and his leg started to bounce, trying to dispel some of his energy. “They started to beat the dog senseless and threw him out to the street where he got hit by a car. It was- it was a disaster. But he pulled through.” Clint looked over at Lucky who had managed to find his bed and go to sleep. “We’ve been together ever since, me and him. He’s the reason I moved out to Michigan. I had enough money to buy this rundown house, and I have been fixing it. But now he had the yard he deserves.”

The assassin nodded. “People are terrible.”

“They really are.” Clint pulled his other arm up and planted his elbow on the table so he could prop his head up. “Can I at least have a name? Calling you murder man in my head is just starting to sound wrong.”

The man gave a weak smile. “James.”

“James?” Clint asked. “I guess James works. Wait, is that a fake name?”

“No. It’s my birth name,” James answered. “Good news- only your eyebrow needed a bandaid over it. So as long as you don’t purposely go trying to get anything infected, you should be okay.” He got up quickly and went back to the sink to wash his hands. He lingered there. “Lucky- outside?” he called.

“I can take him-”

“Can’t have you trying to run again. Not yet.” James headed for the door, meeting Lucky. “I’m taking your phone with me. Go relax somewhere.” He opened the door and disappeared outside.

The problem with being inside was that it was  _ inside _ . Clint was beginning to feel more trapped by the minute, like he couldn’t breathe. It was a nice day outside. He moved closer to a window and watched as James tousled with Lucky for the ball and a part of him was mad at how forgiving Lucky could be. Clint watched this for a few minutes before he looked at his work on the coffee table before deciding he was done listening to rules.

With a pair of flip flops on his feet, Clint slipped outside and sat down on the stairs. Lucky didn’t pay him any attention, chasing the balls James threw. James did look back once at Clint, scowling for a moment, then went back to entertaining the overly excited mutt. Clint leaned against the railing and was trying to decide just how far he could push his luck. He wanted to grab the padding on the porch and take it out to the open grass, right where the sun was beating down, and take a nap there, letting the warmth soak into his muscles and easing the pain. 

After a few minutes, Clint did just that. He grabbed the padding from the porch and hauled it out towards where Lucky and James were. James turned and watched him suspiciously but didn’t say a word. Lucky came running to his side for a few head scratches before he was over Clint’s lack of wanting to play. Clint flopped the lawn chair padding down before he laid on top of it and let out a content sigh.

Away from the house, everything felt a little lighter. He wasn’t around the tension, the emotions. He could focus on the sun shining on his face, or his back if he would just flip over. He could still hear Lucky barking at James, demanding he pitch the ball, or the way he growled when James was trying to take the ball from him.

All of it seemed too domestic for what was happening. It left Clint on the edge of feeling almost secure while still worried that at any moment this could go horribly wrong all over again. Yesterday had been one thing, but just the thought of Lucky launching at James to bite and the possibility that he could have lost his dog- just thinking about it made Clint’s eyes well up. 

Clint finally rolled onto his stomach and folded his arms under his head, ignoring the way his knee ached when pressed against the ground. With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Being worked up wasn’t going to help him. He needed to keep his composure. James had caught him way too quickly before when he tried to run, so that option was out the window.

“If you are going to fall asleep you should do it inside,” James said, and Clint could feel the sun’s warmth dim; James had to be standing over him. “You are going to burn.”

“Worth it. So worth it,” Clint muttered. The sun came back to warm him up before he heard some rustling. He turned his head and watched as James sat down. “Something you want to talk about?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Jmaes admitted.

Clint frowned but didn’t make a move. He was  _ comfortable _ , moving would take effort he didn’t feel like expelling. “Look- I’m not a therapist or anything, I teach kindergarten. You’re a scary dude, but my students are  _ rabid _ . Seriously, you should see them at snack time.” James attempted to smile before he looked down. “And since you haven’t high tailed it out of here yet, I’m going to assume you are sticking around for a few days. Going to be super awkward and quiet soon here.”

“Why?” James asked. “You don’t seem to mind talking.”

“I don’t particularly want to give you my life story just for you to tell someone else I’m here. Namely Barney,” Clint answered.

James’ eyes closed. “I left Hydra the moment I could. The moment I knew too much to stay.”

“Hydra is… the skulls and tentacle people?” Clint asked. James shrugged before he nodded. “And my brother is with them?” Again, James nodded. “Did he do anything to you?”

“Nothing physically,” James answered. “Most of them don’t. He just barely had enough clearance to be in the same room and on the same mission as me. So no he didn’t- he wasn’t one of those people.”

Clint wasn’t going to ask what James had meant by that. If anything, he could tell just talking about it in this context was enough to make him uncomfortable. Clint turned his head back into his arms, tearing his eyes away from that sad expression on James’ face.

“What do you know about Captain America?” James asked.

“About the same as everyone else,” Clint answered before he turned his head back to look at James. “He was born this scrawny, sick lil guy, they pumped him full of something, and then he turned into an American beefcake. He fought Nazis, crashed his plane, and everyone thought he was dead. Clearly he isn’t.”

A sad smile spread across the man’s face as he examined the grass next to him, his metal hand softly going through it like he was afraid of hurting it. “Yeah- everyone thought he was a beefcake after they pumped him full of the serum,” he said. “Before then no one paid much attention to him, except when he ran his mouth and got into fights. Hell, if the wind blew hard enough he’d float away like a leaf.”

Clint frowned a little at the response. “You… heard stories about him? That intimately?”

James’ eyes looked up from the grass to study Clint for a minute. “Not exactly.” He leaned back. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

“Well, then either shut your trap or get it out,” Clint said with a smile, squinting against the sunlight to see James. “You got my phone. Who am I going to tell?” Clint held up his hand like he was on the phone. “Hey Kate. You will never guess who is here. Sexy leather thighs is here talking about-”

“Sexy leather thighs?” James asked, interrupting Clint’s joke.

It was like his soul left his body in that moment. Clint knew his face paled before it heated up. “Can… we pretend I didn’t say that?” he asked.

“You can try but it’s firmly stuck in my head right now,” James said.

Clint groaned and rolled over onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes. “A year ago they showed a clip of you on television. My friend, Kate- she called you leather thighs. And uh-”  _ Foot, meet mouth _ Clint thought.

“And you added the sexy part on,” James said.

Clint scrunched up his nose. “I have terrible taste in men. It’s not like-” There was an odd noise and Clint removed his arm to look at James, at his growing smirk. “No, it’s not like- I mean it is but it’s not- stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me.”

It was the first time he had heard James’ laugh. It was rich and deep, and the way he bit his lip afterwards didn’t help the situation. Clint sighed and smiled, feeling like that laugh could become more contagious the longer it lasted.

“Anyway,” Clint said slowly. “If you want to share anything, I’m not telling anyone. No one would believe me anyway.”

James seemed to consider it for a moment. “And what if you don’t believe me?”

“Does it matter if I believe you?” Clint asked.

“I guess not.” James didn’t move for some time, going back to the grass in front of him. “The Smithsonian is said to have a Captain America exhibit.”

“Yeah- about his time with the Howling Commandos,” Clint replied. “Never got the chance to go. But a friend said it was kind of bittersweet.”

James dug out Clint’s phone and tossed it to him. “Can you look it up for me?”

Clint rose an eyebrow but grabbed the phone, unlocked it, and typed it in. “Like the actual exhibit or pictures from it?” Clint asked as he typed it in.

“I think you’ll get it once it loads,” James said cryptically.

“You keep saying things that make me think that-“ Clint said before his google search finished loading. He clicked on a photo to get a better view and felt his jaw open. 

There was no mistaking the person standing off to the right of Captain America. He had shorter hair back then, but he had the same intense gaze, the same jaw line, and Clint had seen hints of that smile. It wasn’t that Clint hadn’t heard of Captain America’s best friend before, everyone had heard of Bucky Barnes, but Clint never had the chance to really care.

“No. No, you can’t be serious,” he said, dropping his phone to his lap before he looked up, the same intense gaze looking back at him but in person. “You are-“

“Yes.” Clint reached up and rubbed his eyes. “I tried that too, didn’t seem to change who I was,” James said.

Clint dropped his hands to his lap. “You have to tell him, bro.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Bro?”

“Steve- Captain America.  _ Whatever _ . You gotta-“

“No.”

“Why not?” Clint asked.

James sighed and looked back down. The moment’s masked happiness dissolved between them as Lucky moved to sit and lean up against James. Automatically, James wrapped an arm around the dog, rubbing his side without a thought. Clint let the silence carry them for however long James needed.

“I’m not the same guy as I was before,” James said, sounding broken. “And I don’t think I can be.”

“You think he’s the same person?” Clint asked.

James looked up, his lip curling up into a half smirk while his eyes told Clint this was a dangerous conversation to have. “He wasn’t the one turned into a… what was it your mind called me? Murder man?”

“In all fairness to myself, you  _ did _ murder someone right behind me yesterday and until just now I only knew of you as, like, a serial killer or something,” Clint replied awkwardly. James snorted and looked away, but his expression remained the same. “Help me understand?” Clint offered.

“You get paid to be a kindergarten teacher, not a therapist for-“ James waves his hand over his body. “It doesn’t matter.”

Clint mulled it over for a minute, trying to puzzle it all out. “James?” James looked back up at Clint. “Write him a letter. You don’t have to put a date, or a location. And sure as  _ hell  _ don't use my location. But… write to him and wait. Because I am willing to bet my house that if you do that somehow, some way, he will let you know if he wants to talk.”

James’ jaw clenched a few times before he sighed and looked down. “Why are you giving me advice?” His voice was tight and rough, and Clint could see the tears as they were forming.

Clint smiled and moved to sit next to him. “Because I am usually good at figuring out who needs help and who to steer clear from. You seem like the type of guy who just needs to catch a break.” Clint leaned up against him.

It took a minute but James leaned back against Clint, his head coming over to rest against his. “He doesn’t need someone broken,” he said.

“No one is broken, James,” Clint insisted. “Some people just need some help figuring out how they fit, and that’s okay.”

Clint wasn’t quite sure how long they sat outside for. He watches the leaves on the trees near the woods sway in the breeze for a little bit before he looked up at the clouds. James hadn’t made an attempt to move. Every once in awhile Clint thought he could hear a sniffle come from the man, but Clint didn’t look over or comment. If James was crying, Clint thought it best to leave it well enough alone.

“We should go inside,” James commented to break up the relative quiet.

“Yeah, alright,” Clint agreed as James moved. “Help me up?”

They were inside in no time, James insisting on going in last so he could close the door. Clint went for his next round of coffee, the liquid verging on lukewarm. He popped his mug in the microwave and cradled it between his hands.

“You know what you need?” Clint called out to James before he turned. James was taking his shoes off and glanced over. “A long, hot bath. I would have said shower but baths are better. I think I got that lavender stuff- it’s like a bath bomb? Makes bubbles, smells good, supposed to calm you down.”

“You use bath bombs?” James asked skeptically.

“What? A guy can’t enjoy a bath bomb?” Clint challenges teasingly. “Kate gave them to me, said I need to settle my ass down. And I- well-“ Clint shrugged. “They smell good.”

James smiled, even if barely, and he looked at the window. “I don’t have time for a long, hot bath.”

“Why? You planning on taking off right now?” Clint asked.

“No.”

“Then take a bath.” Clint waited until James looked over at him again. “You’ll be alright. It’s not like I don’t know how to shoot a gun or anything.” James raised an eyebrow. “That was probably the wrong thing to say. I meant it like I-”

“Just give me the towel and a bath bomb,” James said with a sigh of defeat.

Clint smiled and headed upstairs. He got two towels out, a washcloth, and plopped a big purple sphere down on top. James watched him then eyed the bathroom. “You know how to work it, right?” Clint asked.

“I think I can figure it out,” James said with a bit of a drawl. “Why? You wanting to help sexy leather thighs out?”

Clint’s face instantly turned hot and scrunched his nose. “Can’t you just  _ pretend _ like you didn’t hear me say that?” he asked.

“I can pretend but making you relive that moment is worth it,” James commented. “Don’t leave the house. I have your phone in here.”

“Want me to turn music on it for you?” Clint offered.

James frowned for a moment. “What kind of music?” he asked.

“What kind do you want?”

James thought it over before he looked up. “Something instrumental?”

“You got it.” Clint took his phone back from James and programmed it up. “Here you go, old man. Instrumental music to go with your bath. Treat yourself. See you in an hour.” Clint backed up and closed the door.

He left the second floor when he heard the water start running. He took the stairs slowly, his knee screaming in protest, and he looked around his home. He settled on doing the dishes from lunch before anything else, and then collapsed on the couch, grabbing the remote. There was a lot that needed to be done still- he needed to finish up the drywall in two of the bedrooms, and then paint them. He needed to do the downstairs trim, and figure out why his washing machine was sounding like death. Instead, he turned on the Travel channel, tossed the remote away after turning on closed captions, and relaxed, taking his hearing aids out and tossing them into the table.

Clint wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he absently watched the television. All he could remember was pictures of some beachy place, maybe Hawaii, and all the trees, the crystal clear water, the fish, and wishing he was there. He could picture himself wearing a swimsuit and learning how to surf. Maybe he should see if Hawaii or somewhere like that was hiring- he doubted it but maybe if he taught a higher grade…

James’ legs blocked Clint’s view of the television and he looked up. James was toweling his hair and talking. Clint smiled as he watched him. After a moment, James frowned and looped his towel around his neck.  _ Aids out _ he signed.

_ Yes. _ Clint made an effort to sit up but James reached out, putting a hand on him and applying a gentle pressure for him to lay back down, so Clint did. James sat on the ground across from Clint.  _ Want something? _

James nodded.  _ Write. _ Clint was a bit surprised.  _ Where supplies? _ Clint pointed over to the bookcase before holding up two fingers.  _ Thank you. _

Now Clint had something different to watch. James got up and went to the bookcase, collecting what little stationary Clint owned and coming back to the coffee table. He folded his legs and scooted up before he hesitated, taking one of Clint’s pens. Bucky was motionless for a few minutes before he glanced at Clint. Clint leaned over and collected his hearing aids before putting them in.

“What is it?”

“What if he doesn’t like what I have to say?” James asked.

“Then you deal with that later,” Clint answered. “He’s not going to like whatever happened to you, James. It’s going to make him upset. But that’s not a bad thing. For now, you writing to him is the only way he will understand where you are coming from. I think he’ll appreciate it more than if you don’t do anything.”

“How can you be sure?” James tapped the end of the pen against the paper in front of him. “What if he thinks-”

“James. You said it. I get paid to teach kindergartners. I’m no therapist,” Clint said. “Back out if you want. All I know is your stories are like something Disney would put out. Two guys torn apart by time only to find out each other are alive a billion years later. So then they get together and live happily ever after or some bullshit.”

“I don’t  _ love  _ the guy,” James said through a laugh. “Christ, the guy is basically my brother. We’re not… we were never like that.” James' smile turned more on the soft side.

“What I was trying to say is… if my best friend went missing and I found out they were living even a year later, I would want to know how they are. That’s all,” Clint explained. He turned onto his side and curled up. “I think you both deserve that chance to figure out if you both still fit together. But I am telling you- he was torn up learning you were alive. He’s going to want to talk to you.”

James ducked his head, but Clint could still see that smile between strands of hair. “You’re just a ball of positive energy, aren’t you?”

“I try to be.” Clint averted his eyes and looked back at the television. “Hey- have you ever been to Hawaii?”

“Not that I can remember. Why?” James asked.

“No reason. It just looks peaceful and exciting. The right amount of adventure,” Clint commented. “Write that letter, James.” Clint took his hearing aids back out and tossed them onto the table before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it down on top of him.

The rest of the day went fairly smooth. James was back to being quiet again, but he didn’t seem to care what Clint did. Clint was allowed to make dinner that night, which after a frantic conversation turned into Clint being allowed to order pizza. Clint finished the dry walling up in the two bedrooms, James checking on him a few times. No comments were made about Clint’s terrible singing, or the way he would break out into a dance when the right song came on. About the only thing that was said was that Clint needed to wear long sleeves and bandaids on his face to keep his scratches from getting crud in them, which he agreed to.

Anytime Clint checked on James he was sitting at the coffee table, bent over and writing. He could only imagine what James was writing, what all needed to be said after seventy years or so of being apart. He sometimes would have a smile on his face as he reminisced, but more often than not he just looked exhausted and haunted by his own mind. Clint wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay, even if the words had a chance of being incorrect. He just wanted to give the man what little peace he could, in any way Clint could. Instead, Clint let him have his moment because he wasn’t sure how much of that James had ever been given.

By the time the day was about over, Clint felt worn down to his bones. They had their pizza on the couch, Clint putting on the Star Wars Trilogy, insisting they started with the first movies ever made before watching the others, even if they were technically out of order. Lucky was passed out on his bed and Clint was well on his way to Sleepytown as well, his head nodding off and his eyes closing against his will.

Unlike the previous night, or even that morning, he wasn’t concerned about sharing his space. Call it stupidity, because it was definitely stupid, or even misguided, but Clint wasn’t around eighty percent sure that James wasn’t going to kill him. Despite being an assassin, he  _ was  _ Captain America’s old best friend. That had to count for something. It didn’t help that Clint could still picture Bucky inspecting his face, carefully cleaning up cuts and knicks on Clint’s face, his arm. He can still hear his apologies, see the horror and haunted looks.

Clint felt a blanket being slipped over him and he opened his eyes. James gave him a weak smile and a short nod before he gently encouraged Clint to lay down. He didn’t know when pillows got to the space to his left, but they shielded his head against the hard couch and Clint pulled his legs up, curling. James turned the television off and set the remote next to Clint’s hearing aids.

A part of him knew he should climb the stairs and sleep in bed. He was going to wake up feeling like he was a hundred years old. But he was cozy and warm, settled for a night on the couch. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Anything he had to worry about could wait until the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning came with rain clouds and the chance of severe weather. Clint wasn’t overly shocked- it was the Midwest after all, and the weather had a habit of changing rapidly. Clint watched as the rain came down, first in sheets and now a drizzle. Any plans he had for outside were ruined, which was okay. He had enough indoor work to keep him busy for the day.

He didn’t bother with his hearing aids for the first hour he was awake. He made a pot of coffee before he even noticed that Lucky was missing, the front door unlocked. Yesterday’s biting drama in the past, Lucky had to be with James. Clint tried to push back the warm feeling that was blooming in his chest at the thought.

Clint made himself breakfast after he had some coffee in him- eggs and toast. It was odd having breakfast by himself, without a dog around to beg and eat the crust from his toast. In a way it was almost sad and he wanted James to bring his dog back.  _ But I can share _ he thought- if Lucky liked James and James wasn’t hurting Lucky, Clint couldn’t complain too much.

After he cleaned the dishes, Clint stood in his living room and looked around. He knew he should try to work on lesson planning, if nothing else to stay ahead, but without his phone he was lacking some of the resources he wanted to use. So he looked at the stack for a bit before he gave up on the notion.

_ Yoga _ . He hadn’t done that in a few days. His knee was screaming at him from the day before, his muscles felt tight, but he could use the stretch. Clint grabbed his socks and rolled out the mat. He glanced at his hearing aids and then decided against them, finding a video and putting it on. As he moved and stretched he moaned and groaned, the pull of his muscles feeling just on the right side of everything he needed. He modified the positions to account for his knee, but in the end, it felt good being in that headspace where it was relaxing while pushing his muscles.

And then Lucky had to ruin the moment. A flash of gold zipped under Clint, brushing against him. Clint startled and caught himself before he could land on his dog, who, despite being forgiving, would give him those big sad eyes for an hour before he would forget the incident. Clint laughed when Lucky wagged his butt and launched up to lick every inch of his face. Clint rolled off of the side and wrapped his arms around Lucky, pulling the dog with him until he was on his back and Lucky was on top of him, looking like the happiest mutt alive.

Clint looked up from Lucky and spotted James, who was watching from the entryway. He smiled a little before he ducked his head, turning to go back to the kitchen. Clint got up and stumbled his way over to the coffee table, grabbing his hearing aids before he followed James.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Morning,” James replied. “You looked and sounded like you were having a good morning.”

Clint scrunched up his nose. “You couldn’t have been there long. Lucky always trips me when I’m doing yoga. It’s like his superpower.”

“His doggie-senses tingle?” James teased.

“Exactly,” Clint said. “So- what are you doing today?”

“Finishing the letter,” James answered, getting himself a glass of water. “And you?”

“Probably painting the two bedrooms,” Clint answered with a shrug, leaning on the counter. “The weather is supposed to be terrible all day really. They are talking about some nasty storms this evening as a front moves through. So if you want to do anything outside you should get it done early. LUcky won’t go out if the storm gets bad. He doesn’t like storms much.”

“What do you both do when a storm comes through?” James asked.

“Mostly we make a blanket fort and ride it out,” Clint answers. “He’s clingy until it’s done. It would be cute if I knew he wasn’t stressed out.” James gave Clint an odd look. “What?”

“Blanket fort.”

“Hey. A real man will paint his toes if a small child asks, will let children put makeup on, and will make a blanket fort for their dog should their dog need it,” Clint said with a proud look. “The list goes on. Want me to continue?”

James shrugged before he leaned against the island near Clint. “I wasn’t saying it wasn’t manly. I find it… cute.”

Clint bit his lip then looked away. “I’m thinking Taco Bell for lunch? You alright if I leave for a half hour?”

James hesitated before he nodded. “You won’t tell?”

“Not a soul,” Clint answered.

James gave a small nod then drummed his hands on the counter. “Alright. See you when you get back then. Lucky- want to go for another walk?” he called before walking.

Clint waited until they were both outside before he grabbed his keys and his wallet. With one more glance to James and Lucky, he got into his old beater truck and headed for the closest town with Taco Bell. The ride was soothing, the rain barely a drizzle as the sun thought about making an appearance through the clouds. It was got to be a hot, sticky day outside and Clint was glad he installed an air conditioning unit last fall because he did  _ not _ feel like melting.

The small town near his home was hustling like always, people waving as you passed. Clint was thankfully too new for too many people to really know anything about him. He kept his head down, mostly kept to himself. He hadn’t even dated anyone and brought them back to this town. It was probably a sad way to live, but Clint was still trying to decipher the feeling behind the town before he brought back a guy to his house, or worse- take him out for a date.

But it wasn’t a bad town so far. He was at the hardware store and one of the employees had shown him an easier fix than what he had been attempting on the old water heater, hoping to limp it through just a little longer. And the old lady that ran the honey stand had told him a better way to get his small vegetable garden to grow produce. And when he saw a couple of teens broken down on the side of the road, Clint stepped in and helped them fix it for cheaper than what a dealership would have cost him.

As much as Clint hated small towns, so far he liked this one. He wasn’t part of a gossip wheel, no one knew his family history. It wasn’t like Iowa where his folk’s home was- where everyone knew about the Barton boys and their parents. He was happy when Barney gave him his cut from that disaster of a house so he would never have an excuse to go back.

Clint got their food and drove back to his house. He stopped along the way for coffee, picking up another for James. He was riding high and feeling good until he pulled up to his house and saw the black car in the drive, along with a silver convertible.  _ Fuck, Katie-kate, no _ . He eyed the house and the surroundings. America and Kate were nowhere to be seen, which meant they had to be in the house. And in or near the house was James and…

Clint got out of the car and balanced all the items he was carrying. His stomach was turning into knots, a million scenarios running through his head. He hadn’t heard any screaming, no gun fire, and that had to be a good sign, right? It had to be something. As he climbed the porch steps he heard laughter and he tapped on the door with his foot.

James was the one to answer it. There was a smile plastered on his face, but his eyes were pleading. He looked terrified. Clint gave him a tight smile. This wasn’t part of the plan- neither of them could have expected it.

“There you are,” Kate said. “James was just talking to us. We literally just got here.”

“Oh hey,” Clint greeted, squeezing by James to kiss Kate’s cheek. “You are early. You were supposed to be here tomorrow.”

“I convinced her to leave a day early,” America said. While Kate was all smiles, America looked like all business. “What did you do to your face?”

“My face?’ Clint asked. “Oh. I was trying to get Lucky used to walking on a leash so I can take him with me into the city and walk the downtown farmers market. Well, a cat ran past and I ate gravel.” He set the bags down on the kitchen table. It was an easy lie. Clint did go to the farmers markets, and he did want to take Lucky. But everything else was a load of shit. “I would have picked you guys up food if I knew you were coming.”

“We can’t stay long,” America said. “With the storms coming and all, we kinda want to put a good amount of distance in while we can.”

Kate was giving him a strange look, an almost too sweet, verging on smug, smile. “So… is James your foster brother or something?” she asked.

“Uh-” Clint began to say.

“We met in college,” James replied. “He said he was having issues with fixing this place up so I offered to come and help him.” James held his hands up, both with gloves on under Clint’s long sleeved shirt, a shirt Clint  _ knew _ Kate was familiar with.  _ Because that helps the situation _ . “I’m a bit of a neat freak when it comes to home improvements, don’t particularly like my hands dirty.”

America bumped into Kate. “Right. Okay! So! Parts are in the car, Clint,” she said. “I’ll text you.”

“Right. Okay. You both have a good time,” Clint replied, moving to wrap his arms around them to usher them towards the door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Use condoms or whatever it is you all use.”

“Oh… my God,” Kate said before faking a gag.

America’s grin went savage. “That sounds  _ exactly  _ like something you wouldn’t do. You should maybe take your own advice. James- nice to meet you, man.”

“Yeah, same.”

Clint couldn’t get them out of the house quick enough. America marched towards the car, and Kate kept sending him looks over her shoulder. He knew that look on her face. That was a look telling him she was going to talk about this whether he wanted to or not. James came up beside him and waved to the two women.

“They think we’re fuckin’, don’t they?” James asked so casually that Clint’s face turned straight to red.

“They do,” he replied apologetically. “Doesn’t help that’s the shirt Kate bought me for Christmas last year.”

“She’s got excellent taste,” James commented before he turned to head back inside. Clint followed him in, rubbing his face and willing the blush to fade away. “I should leave. They are going to figure it out and-“

“You can’t go yet,” Clint protested. “I bought you food and you were just bleeding a  _ lot _ two days ago.” James turned back, walking backwards now, and giving Clint a confused look. “I told you to stop bleeding in the kitchen?” Clint reminded him.

James got a small smile on his face. “I’m fine.” He tugged the hem of his shirt up, showing off miles of toned, smooth skin. And right where Clint was expecting a wound to be was a patch of clear skin. Clint’s eyes widened and he moved over, reaching out to touch the spot to find it perfectly smooth. “It’s not exactly the serum they gave Stevie, but it’s pretty damn close.”

Clint’s eyes stayed on James’ skin, his fingers trailing down before he caught himself, jerking his hand away. His eyes lifted to meet James’, and he nodded. “Oh.”

“Oh,” James replied. He dropped his shirt and walked over to the table to get his food. “Alright- What is this?”

Clint rubbed his fingers against his palm before he followed James. “Taco Bell. The shittiest fake Mexican food ever and it tastes amazing.”

“It’s shitty yet tastes amazing,” James said slowly. “You still got a concussion going?” he asked, mostly playfully but something about him looked serious.

Clint waved him off. “Just wait, you’ll see,” Clint said, digging into the bag. “I got you some basic items because I dunno what you like. Taco, quesadilla, Mexican pizza-”

“They have pizza at a Mexican place?” James asked, taking his seat.

“I know, right?” Clint said, shoving items towards James. “It’s amazing. Last but not least- caramel apple empanada. And your drink is a lemonade because I haven’t seen you drink a pop yet. It might be really sweet, if it is, we can always cut it back with some water.”

James nodded and looked at all his wrapped items. He started with his lemonade, his nose scrunching up before he got up. Clint was pulling his own items out of the bag when James stepped up and hugged him. Clint stood unmoved for a moment, unsure what was happening before his hands wrapped around James in a loose hug.

“Thank you,” James said softly against Clint’s ear.

“For what?” Clint asked.

“More than what you know.” James backed off first before he carried on, grabbing his lemonade and mixing it with water.

Lunch was mostly quiet. James had a weird look on his face, like he was determined about something as he thought it through. Clint was mostly thinking about having to paint the two upstairs bedrooms today, or at least the one. Every so often he would catch James glancing over his way, but he left it alone. Clint was pretty sure he had made it clear- if James wanted to talk then he could, but otherwise Clint was trying not to ask too many questions.

“Can I take Lucky on a walk?” James asked.

“Uh- sure. Just don’t make it too long. I think the weather is supposed to change in a few hours to being a thundering nightmare,” Clint replied.

“Yep. Blanket fort needs to happen, I remember,” James said as he got up, picking up his trash. “Thank you for the shittiest, tastiest fake Mexican food there is.”

“Any time,” Clint replied, smiling. “If you need me I’m going to be upstairs painting one of those bedrooms.”

“Got it. Lucky,” James said before whistling, headed for the door. Lucky left Clint’s side, giving him a dirty look for not sharing his food, then trotted to catch up to James.

After Clint cleaned up after lunch, he changed into his painting clothes and went to work. He taped around the windows and the trim first, before he mixed the paint and smiled. Painting wasn’t exactly a fun task, it was boring and always left an ache in his shoulders, but it was rewarding. He liked the smell of the paint, and the way a room looked when it was finally coming together. Clint was pretty sure that he could have all the big projects done by the school year- there was always going to be the little things to do, that was unavoidable. 

Clint glanced out the window and smiled. It had been over an hour ago that James left with Lucky and now they were coming back from the woods, James flinging a stick for Lucky to chase after. That domestic feeling started coming back up, warming Clint up, and he tried to shove it down. Out of all the stupid things he had done in life, this had to be the biggest, letting a wanted fugitive stay at his house. He didn’t need to top that with developing some kind of emotional attachment to the guy who was clearly going through enough already. Clint wanted to reserve that level of stupid for when he absolutely needed it.

It was several more hours before there was a tap on the second bedroom’s door, pulling Clint’s attention. James smiled as he looked around the room. “I am going to make dinner if that’s okay with you. Should be done in about a half hour?”

“Hmm.” Clint looked around. “Can you start it in an hour? I think I’ll be done with the first coat by then, and I can shower while you cook.”

James nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” Clint waved him off and went back to painting. “Want help?”

“Nah. You cookin’ dinner will be help enough,” Clint said. “And you looked after Lucky for me, hopefully tuckering him out.”

“He should be.” James seemed to linger in his spot, watching Clint. “Is this what you have always wanted?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“A fixer upper house in the middle of nowhere Michigan, teaching,” James said.

Clint smiled a little more as he got more paint so he could continue, being careful not to pour it everywhere. “Depends I suppose. When I was younger, no. I wanted to be a fireman, or a cop. And then when my parents died and we joined the circus I wanted to be-”

“You joined the circus,” James interrupted.

“Yeah, long story short- my brother and I ran away from foster care because the lady was an abusive asshole and we joined the circus. That’s where Trick Shot was,” Clint explained as quickly as he could. “Anyway, there I wanted to become some big superstar. I guess I thought that was how everyone started. Once that went downhill, I was placed in foster care again but this time I was with an amazing family. They did everything to help me catch up in my education, and showed me what was really important. That’s when I decided I wanted to teach. It’s my small way of giving back.” 

Clint knew his smile had turned a little on the shaky side. “I guess I thought maybe if I knew the signs of abuse I could stop it, stop a kid from having to live through it like I did for years. And I want to teach kids early that an education is something precious, give them the building blocks to do good. I want to give them the things I didn’t have growing up.”

James was quiet, and Clint didn’t mind that. He was wrapped up in his own feelings at the moment. It was one thing to think about why he went into education, but it was another to tell someone else. James was the first to ask, he wouldn’t be the last- but every time Clint shared his why, it always left him feeling a little raw, exposed and ready to have to build those walls back up that took him so long to break down.

“How did you start life that way and end up like this?” James asked. Clint looked over. “Happy. How did you end up so… happy?”

“A lot of hard work and therapy,” Clint answered. “Learning to forgive people and myself for things that went wrong. I consider myself lucky, I guess. Things could be so much worse than what they are, you know? I could… I could be like Barney,” Clint said, his voice shaking. He bent down and set the paint roller down. “I could still be running around, getting myself tied up in a lot of trouble, y’know? I could still- I could still be listening to what others wanted me to do, not know-” Clint stopped himself when his voice cracked and he reached up and brushed his hands against his cheek bones. “Sorry.”

“What is it you told me?” James asked. “To paraphrase it. It’s okay to not be okay.”

Clint laughed and looked at the ceiling. “I’m okay though. Just the thought of it makes me sad. We were given the same opportunities in life until I was fourteen. We both had shit for parents- well, no. My mom was okay, she just wasn’t strong enough to leave my dad. We both went to foster care, we both joined the circus. And now… now I feel like I have overcome a lot while he is still trying to find his way. And that’s sad. No one should have to do that.” Clint smiled, more sure of himself before he looked at James. “But I’m okay.”

James looked like he wanted to leave his spot in the worst way. He was fidgety, something Clint wasn’t used to seeing out of the guy. He gave a nod before he turned and disappeared, heading downstairs. Clint watched him go before he bent down and picked up the roller, got more paint, and finished his task.

Satisfied with the last of the paint going on, Clint cleaned up his mess first before he took a shower, washing away the day. He could smell the food as it cooked, although he wasn’t sure what exactly James was cooking. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the shower, soaking in the moment.

The first rumble of thunder is the only reason Clint left before the water went cold. Lucky was laying across the flooring, blocking his way. “Hey boy,” Clint said, holding the towel tightly around his waist. “Hey, it’s okay. Let me just-”

“Sorry.” Clint looked up then tightened his hold. James was coming out of Clint’s room, holding two blankets. He averted his eyes. “I was just grabbing… uh- blanket fort.”

“Right. Yeah. I’ll meet you down there?” Clint offered. With a short, sharp nod of the head, James rushed by then trotted down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Clint watched him go before he looked at Lucky. “Be lucky you are a dog. Human interactions are weird,” he told his mutt before he stepped over the dog. “Go get James,” he said gently. He didn’t have to look back, he heard Lucky get up then go down the stairs.

Clint took his time getting dressed, finding the largest sweatpants he could and the biggest sweatshirt. He glanced at himself in the mirror before he left. He shoved his knee compression sleeve into his pocket, and took the stairs slowly. James was already constructing his own version of a blanket fort, whispering something to Lucky that Clint had no chance of hearing. He paused a few steps up and watched for a moment.

“That’s looking like a mighty strong blanket fort you got going there,” Clint commented. “Keep it up and Lucky is going to expect better things out of me.”

James looked up from his work. “Good. You can finish it. I need to finish dinner.” He acted like he was dusting off his hands before he headed for the kitchen. “News said we are in for a  _ long _ night.”

“Yeah, I can believe it,” Clint answered. He went to work finishing James’ job. “Hey buddy, it’s okay,” he cooed to his dog. Lucky watched him, visibly shaking and nervous. “Soon enough we’ll be tucked away. Let’s see if we can find something on television for you, huh? What are you thinking for tonight?”

“Do you always talk to your dog expecting an answer?” James called from the other room.

“Uhm- duh,” Clint answered as he turned the television on. “Lucky is a smart boy. He will let me know.” It was more like Clint needed the excuse to turn on whatever crappy show it was he wanted to watch. He settled on Jersey Shore. “Oh I hope you like junk television because it’s a junk television kinda night.”

Clint busied himself with completing the blanket fort, crawling inside of it to make sure it was going to be big enough, which- tight fit but it was doable. Lucky crawled inside to join him, pressing up against him. Clint hushed him gently and pet him, laying his head against Lucky. 

“Scoot over,” James said, appearing over the hole. “Take these.” Clint grabbed the two bowls and moved to give James space as he joined in. “Roomie,” he commented before setting down a water bottle and grabbing his bowl.

“I had chicken here?” Clint asked.

James looked up and stared at Clint. “... now I’m concerned about the food,” he commented slowly. “Well, let’s see if we get sick. Cheers.” He tucked into his pasta dish and looked at the television. Clint enjoyed watching James for the first few minutes, his face glued to the television, starting out neutral before his nose wrinkled up until he looked slightly shocked, maybe even verging on horror. “The hell is this?” he asked.

“Jersey Shore. It’s the worst,” Clint answered as he slurped his noodles.

“How the fuck did society fall this far?” James asked. “This isn’t normal.”

“I mean, this is dramatized… I think,” Clint answered. “I wouldn’t call this normal really. But it’s funny as hell.”

“It’s depressing. Look at how they are-” James said as the screen flashed to people dancing at a club. “That’s not even dancing! That’s like a mating ritual.” Clint couldn’t help it, he spit his food back into his bowl and broke out in laughter. “I’m serious! If that man didn’t have pants on-” Clint only laughed harder. James turned his head to look at Clint. “What? You dance like that?”

Clint held a hand up. “We are  _ not _ talking about me here.”

James looked appalled for a moment before he tossed a piece of chicken at Clint. “You kids with your terrible dancing and your dating apps. Go to a bar and randomly hook up like a normal person.”

“How am I supposed to hook up with my terrible dance moves, grandpa?” Clint taunted.

James didn’t have a come back. He turned back to his meal and looked at the television. “Something else.”

Clint set his bowl down and grabbed the remote. “Fine but if you make one comment about this next show, we are no longer speaking.” He turned on one of his streaming services. “Dog Cops!”

“Dog Cops?” James asked. “Is this a-”

“Don’t. Sh. Just appreciate it, man,” Clint said, going back to his food.

Unlike before, where James looked slightly horrified, James mostly just looked confused as the episode went on. Clint hardly paid him much attention after the first minute, watching the show while eating his food. He was barely aware of the storm raging outside until the power flickered, the television spazzing before everything went dark and quiet. James paused before he leaned forward, looking out from the blanket fort to check out the window.

“Should we be concerned?” James asked.

Clint put his bowl off to the side and pulled Lucky close. “Nah, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he answered. “Hey, you want to hold and love on Lucky while I get a lantern or something?”

James nodded and took over caring for Lucky. Clint crawled out from the fort and walked to the window in the living room, looking outside. Lightning was dancing in the sky, rumbles of thunder occasionally audible to him over the sound of the rain and the wind. He had seen much worse storms than this one.

Moving on, Clint went to search for one of his lanterns. He grabbed two camping lanterns and set one near the stairs, turning it on, and he brought the other one to the living room. He set it up on the one end of the couch and turned it on, giving them enough light to see. He turned back and caught James watching him as he pet Lucky. Clint flashed him a smile before he walked over and sat, just on the edge of the fort and he reached in to pet Lucky.

“Talk to me about something,” James said. “Anything. Something random.”

“Someone else not like storms?” Clint asked.

“I don’t,” James answered simply. “Reminds me of… the war.” His expression changed to something more confused for a moment before he looked towards the window. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s see,” Clint said, trying to think. “When I was in college, the summer before my last year, I decided to say screw it and went on a road trip. I’d never been on one before, not really at least, and I was just tired. The exams had been hard, trying to get through college and working to try to pay off things- it was rough. So I left the dorms for a month and I just drove. Me and Trash Bucket out there. It was a lot of sleeping in the bed of my truck on the good nights, and a lot of fast food stops, and truck stop shower stops. But it was the first time I was able to travel anywhere on my own. I went up and down the east coast.”

“Where was your favorite spot?” James asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Clint answered. “I loved Maine for all the trees. South Carolina was the first time I got to see the ocean.”

“You saw the ocean in New York, surely,” James pointed out.

“It's not the same,” Clint insisted. “Like, it feels different and all. It’s kinda hard to explain. I guess in New York you get so wrapped up in other things that the ocean just isn’t what you think about. But when you are down south, and it’s hot and you can swim in it-” Clint shrugged. “I would say I would want to be a beach bum. Learned how to surf, ate all the seafood. But I don’t want it to lose that magic. I’ll just visit places like Hawaii.”

“So why here?” Bucky asked.

“They were looking for a teacher and the housing here wasn’t terribly expensive,” Clint answered. “This isn’t my forever place- just a stepping stone until I can find that place. And I know that’s not good. That people need to settle down, put down roots and make a home. But growin’ up I never had that, so staying still just feels weird still.”

“Would you ever go back to New York?” James asked.

“In a heartbeat,” Clint answered. “I just couldn’t afford it.”

James nodded and looked out towards the window before he looked back. “What else did you do on this road trip?”

Clint went on about the places he visited and the people he met. Picking fruit in Georgia. Doing the whole go to the club thing in Florida, getting his ass handed to him right outside of a club because he stopped some weirdo from following a drunk girl. Parking his truck somewhere a little hidden and spending the night on a beach in South Carolina. Camping in the bed of his truck in Maine and watching the stars. Nothing Clint did was particularly exciting- he didn’t try parasailing or anything like that. But it had been a good summer vacation regardless.

“So what about you?” Clint asked.

“What about me?” James questioned.

“You got a new sense of freedom, right?” Clint pointed out. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

James looked perplexed for a moment before he looked down at his lap. “I don’t know. I never gave it thought.” He looked back up. “You seem excited about Hawaii though. Maybe there?”

Clint smiled. “Maybe there,” he agreed. “Would you look at that? Lucky is snoozing.” James looked to his side where Lucky was curled up and fast asleep. “I would say operation blanket fort was a success, what would you say?” James nodded. “Come on. I’ve got more blankets tucked away somewhere.”

Clint was on his feet in no time, reaching down to help James to his. Clint smiled and then his jaw fell when he saw the tears. “Hey, no. I’m sorry. Whatever I-”

“Shut up and hug me or something,” James demanded softly.

Clint smiled as he gathered James up into his arms. He rested his chin on top of James’ head as James leaned his forehead against Clint's shoulder. He watched the storm was it blew away, the lightning less frequent, the rumbling of thunder not able to reach his ears anymore, until all he was left with was rain. Clint took a deep breath and tightened his embrace for a moment, squeezing James tightly before he let his arms drop, James’ slowly melting away.

“Come on. It’s bed time. You can steal my bed for the night,” Clint offered.

“I’ll sleep down here with Lucky,” James said, glancing over at the dog. 

Clint followed his gaze and smiled. “If that’s what you want.”

Clint walked upstairs, James in tow. He looked around until he found two more blankets and tossed one to his bed before holding the other out to James. James hesitated, studying Clint’s face, and when he stepped forward Clint leaned in, just a little.

“Thank you,” James said, taking the blanket. “Night, Clint.”

“Night James,” Clint murmured as James disappeared around the corner.

It was stupid. It  _ was _ . The way his heart was racing, the way he thought, even briefly, that that moment was leading somewhere it clearly wasn’t and shouldn’t. Clint was almost mad at himself for thinking that there was a chance that James’ look meant anything more than just a tired gaze. And Clint should  _ want _ it to be something so simple- he didn’t need something more complicated to happen than what was already going on.

But he wasn’t imagining it, was he? James couldn’t be focusing on Clint, watching him with any sort of interest. James wasn’t searching Clint’s face for the answer to the silent question, a question Clint had mistakenly asked himself.  _ No. This is just me trying to read into things again. Making something out of nothing _ .

Clint climbed into bed and took his hearing aids out, but sleep didn’t come easy. His heart wouldn’t calm down, which meant his mind wouldn’t quiet. He pulled a pillow over his head and muffled a bit of a scream into it before he let his arms flop down to his sides.

It was going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day came with the sunshine laser focusing on Clint’s face. Clint shielded his eyes and slowly sat up. He didn’t remember leaving his blinds open yesterday but it was possible. Lucky was nowhere in sight, which wasn’t unusual now that he had James to follow around. Clint made his way out of bed with a groan and some stumbled steps. He took his time grabbing new clothes while he stumbled his way to the bathroom.

Today’s shower was much longer than the day before. He soaked in the warmth and basked in the steam. He lazily washed his hair and soaped up, still in a half-sleep state as he did so, the heat threatening to send him back under. He dragged himself out when the water started to go cold and toweled off before finishing his morning routine.

Clint made it down the stairs and looked around before he frowned. Lucky was in bed, snoozing away, and James was nowhere to be seen. Clint did a turn about, but there wasn’t even a note left. He half expected things to end abruptly- James seemed like the type where words were hard and disappearing was easier. He tried not to let it bother him.

“Lucky, outside?” Clint called but Lucky merely lifted his head for a moment, gave a single tail wag before he groaned and laid back down. “Alright, fine. Be that way.” Clint took a deep breath. “I think today I am going to finish the roof. Or maybe today I should do the shutters. What do you think, Lucko?” Lucky only grunted. “Yeah, alright.”

Clint headed outside and to his barn. He carried out his ladder first, getting it up at the front of the house before going back for his shutters. He considered painting them again, but really- how many times  _ should _ you paint shutters? He wiped the idea from his mind and grabbed his utility belt and put it on before getting to work.

He was on shutter number two when something caught his eyes by the woods. He turned his head and watched James walk out, a backpack hanging off to his side, both looking like they rolls in dirt. Clint turned and leaned against the ladder with his hip, watching James with a smile. 

James only spotted him when he got closer. “Because that’s not dangerous,” he commented.

“Nah, not at all,” Clint agreed. “Digging for treasure?”

“Can I put this in the barn?” James asked.

“Hell, you can put it in the house,” Clint said. James shook his head and walked out to the barn. “Okay weirdo! Put it there,” he called, laughing. He nearly fell off the ladder when James flipped him off. Clint shook his head and went back to hanging shutters.

“Can I show you something?” James asked as Clint climbed down the ladder. “Won’t take long.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint answered. He followed James out to the barn.

“This is important so I need you to remember this, okay?” James said when they walked in. “I hid a backpack in here. If I ever… if I go missing, I need you to grab it, okay?”

“And do what with it?” Clint questioned.

“There’s a note in there for you, explaining,” James replied. “Its up in the loft, under a floorboard.”

“Can I go-”

“No. Am I gone?” James asked, sounding amused, an eyebrow raised. His spirits seemed to be better today, a small smirk on his face. “Come on. You got another ladder? I can help you hang shutters.”

“You don’t have to,” Clint assured him. “I can handle-”

“Do you have another ladder?” James asked.

“No…. but if you want to do the ground level ones?” Clint offered. James nodded and headed out. “Thanks. You really don’t have to help.”

“I’ve been eating your food for days, spending your money. It’s not a bother,” James insisted. “I’ll shout to you when it’s time for lunch.”

“Sounds good,” Clint said with a smile.

It wasn’t much different working with James. They hardly talked as they worked, which was fine. Over the pounding of hammers, Clint wasn’t sure if he would have heard it anyway. Not only that, but once he was on a task, he liked to be fully focused on it until he was done with it.

The only thing that pulled his attention was the sound of tires on gravel. He turned on his ladder to look at the two cars as they pulled up, unable to recognize them. He looked down at James who watched the cars intensely for a minute. Clint slowly climbed down the ladder, that bad feeling starting to build up. He dropped down next to James as his shoulders started to pull up.

“Go inside. Grab Lucky and go upstairs,” James instructed.

“Do you know-”

“Now.” The cars weren’t slowing as they approached. Clint nodded and turned, grabbing Lucky’s collar to drag him inside as the cars came to a stop. “Clint.” Clint paused and looked back. “Do not make a sound unless I come to you.”

“Right. Be safe,” Clint said. He glanced back out as the doors started to open and he saw the Hydra symbol on one’s arm. He felt a chill settle in before he forced himself to focus and move.

Clint pulled Lucky in and shoved him up the stairs despite his dog trying to get back down them. “Come on, boy. Just work with me here and we can-”

The sound of a gunshot rang out and Lucky bolted up the stairs, Clint taking off after him. He grabbed his dog and pulled him into the bathroom, locking the door. More gunfire was exchanged from outside and Clint flinched before he picked Lucky up and settled them into the bathtub.

“Its okay, it’s fine,” he said softly. “Shhh. Lucky, shhh. Settle,” he implored. He curled up around his dog, wanting to shield him from it all. The noises were getting louder and he heard glass shatter. Lucky started to wiggle and Clint tightened his hold. “Shh. Shhh,” he begged, feeling his chest tighten up from fear and he squeezed his eyes shut.

There was the sound of footsteps on his stairs that made Clint look towards the door. He looked at Lucky and slowly laid him down in the tub. “Stay,” he whispered. “Please,  _ please _ stay.” He slowly climbed up, Lucky watching him. With shaky hands, Clint pulled the curtain slowly, trying to conceal Lucky. Maybe with it closed Lucky will stay still, stay safe. Clint sat down on the toilet and looked at the door, holding his breath, waiting.

Everything went painfully quiet as his mind focused on that one singularly object, the door handle. That moment felt like it dragged on for a year. Then, just as he started to feel hopeful, the door handle attempted to turn. Clint slid off the toilet and tried to hide between it and the sink, tucking his head down between his knees, trying to make himself as small as he possibly could.

“Just open the door and maybe you won’t get hurt,” he heard a man say. Clint looked at the bath, noticed how Lucky hadn’t moved yet, a small blessing. “I’m not going to ask again.”

Life is full of choices, and sometimes Clint knew he picked good ones, and sometimes he knew his choices were the worst. But today’s choice was an easy one. “H-hold on,” he said. “Stay,” he whispered to Lucky. “Stay and it will be okay.”

Clint made his way up and to the door. He unlocked it before he opened the door, greeted by a gun pointed at him. Clint slowly raised his hands as he slipped out and closed the door behind him, the man following his move. “I don’t know anything. I barely know-”

A hand reached out and grabbed him roughly, dragging him closer. Clint tried to keep himself on his feet. “You are going to come with me. If we need a bargaining chip to get our Asset back easier then that is what we are going to do.”

“He’s not someone you can-” Clint saw the hit coming and raised his arm, letting it take the brunt of the hit. Like always, it was the wrong move. He got shoved up against a wall and the next hit was unavoidable and left him feeling sick, his vision swimming for a moment in a swirling mist.

“You don’t know shit,” the man snarled. “All you need to know is that-”

The gunshot was loud, leaving his ears ringing painfully. It took him a moment to gasp out a breath, the pain flooding his right shoulder. It wasn’t the first time Clint had been shot, and knowing his luck it wouldn’t be his last. The man who had a hold of him let go as another gunshot rang in and Clint closed his eyes, but no pain came this time. There was a weight against him for all of five seconds before it was off him.

A hand touched his cheek and he opened his eyes, looking straight into James’. He searched Clint’s face. He couldn’t hear the way James’ asked if he was okay, but he read it on his lips. He nodded his head and shakily reached up, knocking his hearing aids out. It didn’t help the ringing so much, but it at least relieved some pressure, and the static sound was gone. James tapped on his face again and he could read the word  _ stay _ on his lips before James left him.

It wasn’t until James was gone from view that he looked down at the man on the ground, the blood on his shirt. Clint’s stomach rolled and he crashed into James as he turned and rushed into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there until a hand was on his back, sliding across until two hands were under his arms, hauling him up carefully.

Clint was sat on top of the toilet and next thing he knew Lucky was between his legs, his head firmly on Clint’s thigh. Clint tried petting him, trying to pull himself back to being able to focus on something.

It took a minute before James came back, carrying a bag. Clint looked up at him and frowned at the blankness in his face. He helped Clint up and ushered him carefully down the stairs and outside. Clint’s stomach threatened to roll on him again and he turned, trying to go back in. James’ arm caught his midriff and pulled him along, leaving Clint scrambling to work again him.

“No. James, no,” he said, begging. “Whatever it-”

James forced Clint to the other side of one of the car’s, opening the door before he forced Clint to sit. Clint tried to shove him off and away, but James continued to grab a set of handcuffs, grabbing one of his wrists and attaching the other end to the ring around the door. Once he had that settled, he grabbed the hearing aids out of his pocket and held them out to Clint. The last thing Clint wanted was them back in his ear, but when he didn’t make a move, James did it for him.

“Listen to me,” James said, his voice shaking. “Police will be here soon, you’ll be okay.”

“James-”

“Remember that I stored a bag up in the loft. Don't tell anyone about it,” James continued without pause. “I’m sorry, Clint. I really am. I wish this would have gone better, but… they aren’t going to stop and this is the only way I can think of protecting you. Everything is going to be okay though.”

“James,” Clint tried again. “Just let me-”

James leaned down and kissed him. It was soft, hesitant, and Clint closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure who was crying, but he knew someone was. Clint reached his free hand up and held onto the back of James’ neck, leaning forward into it, wanting more.

James sighed as he pulled away. “Maybe the next time we meet I can take you out for coffee,” he said, tucking Clint away in the car, pulling a leg up so Clint couldn’t easily get back out. “I’ll find you again, I promise. Until then… go to Hawaii. Go back to New York. Live out your dreams. You deserve a better life, Clint.” James smiled weakly and Clint realized it was him who was crying, tears still dancing in his eyes. “And thank you for everything.” He closed the car door before he walked out to the barn.

Clint watched him disappear then reappear with his spare gas cans. “No,” Clint whispered before he saw James climb the steps to the porch. “No, no, no.” Clint fumbled with the car door and swung it open. “James! No! Lucky!” James disappeared inside the house and Clint looked down, trying desperately to get out of his handcuff. He shook and pulled, tears starting to form on his face now.

“Like I am going to hurt the dog, Clint,” James said, walking out with Lucky trotting after him. “Come on, Lucky, car ride.” He got Lucky into the backseat before he closed the door, Clint standing in his spot. “I kinda like that dog more than you,” he said in an attempt to make a joke.

“Not the house. I’ve worked hard-”

“Hydra will come back here,” James interrupted him. “They will come back here thinking we have a connection. I need to burn it. Trust me- it will be okay. Sit down. I don’t want to have to do something I will regret.”

Clint was reluctant as he sat back down and closed the car door. James went back inside the house. Clint looked around the car. A Hydra symbol was etched into the side of the center console- Clint wanted something sharp to scratch it out, he didn’t want to see it.

Movement caught Clint’s eyes and he looked up, fire dancing in the front windows of the house. James walked out, a set of keys in his hand.

“Oh come on- not Trash Bucket,” Clint whispered.  _ Of course he is taking Trash Bucket _ . James got into Clint’s old truck and the engine roared to life, sputtering a bit. He pulled by the car, inching it slowly. He stopped long enough to wave Clint’s phone at him before he took off, nothing but dust and dirt flying in the rear view mirror until it dissolved to nothing. In front of him, everything he had worked for was doing the same.


	5. Chapter 5

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” America asked, getting out of the car when Clint opened his door. “Want me to go with you?”

Clint looked at what was left of his home. The outside wasn’t that light blue anymore, the shutters he had just hung mostly gone except pieces dangling off. He wasn’t allowed inside the main house- the structure was too unsound, that’s what the officer had told him. He could see through the room where he had just finished painting a few days ago, a large, gaping hole left behind.

Three days of a lot of questioning left Clint with a massive headache, which was threatening to go into day four. If he knew anyone involved, why it had happened here, what connection he had to the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. Clint kept his story the same throughout it all. A man came by asking for help that day, a little bit of food and directions to the nearest bus stop. He had a long sleeved shirt on and gloves, which was weird, yes, but Clint assumed the guy had mental issues. Then all the cars showed up, all the gunfire, and Clint hiding. 

They must have believed it because they let him go. He wondered what James must have said on the phone to them, because when the cops showed up they weren’t alone. There was a fire truck and an ambulance- Clint couldn’t wait for  _ that _ bill.

“No. Its okay. I know where I left my bag,” Clint said.

“Yeah but don’t you have to climb for it?” America asked.

“I know how to climb one handed,” Clint answered. “Look, five minutes, okay?” he asked. “Just give me-”

“Okay.” Clint was a bit in shock that that was the end of it. America smiled. “What do you want from me, Barton? To beg?” she teased.

“You and Kate are assholes,” Clint laughed. “Hey- thank you.”

“Well, it’s not like we could leave you to sleep in a barn or something, right?” America asked. “At least not Lucky.”

“Everyone just likes me for my dog,” Clint grumbled.

Clint walked to the barn and pushed open the door. Nothing looked touched or out of place but that didn’t stop the fear from bubbling up. The what ifs started playing in his head again- what if there was a bomb, or someone was waiting for him? He didn’t know enough about Hydra, but he knew enough not to want to be near them.

He climbed up to the loft as carefully as he could, keeping his right shoulder tucked in against him. The bullet mostly grazed him, but it was still enough of a concern where he was supposed to rest it for six weeks before coming back in for an examination. Once on top of the loft he took a moment to catch his breath before he found the floorboard James had told him about. Clint knew that one well enough- he had used it himself.

Tuck away in that space were two backpacks. One he didn’t recognize and one he was all too familiar with. The one had been his means of taking clothes with him from his foster home to the circus. It traveled with him from foster care to foster care until he had found people that didn’t give him up. It went to college with him, carried books and a laptop. It carried all his secrets, his life before now, and while he hated some of the items in it, he couldn’t get rid of it either. Clint sat down and pulled the two out. He stuffed James’ into his own and paused at a photo peeking out.

_ He must have gone through it _ Clint thought as he pulled the photo out of himself and Barney. They were both dressed up, both holding bows and having a quiver slung around them. They had been so small when this photo was taken. Clint smiled at the photo, a little bittersweet, and he wiped the tears from under his eyes.

“You just had to go on and do worse things, didn’t you?” he asked the photo of Barney, his finger grazing over his brother’s image. “You had an out and you just wouldn’t take it.” It wasn’t often he thought of his brother, but when Clint did he wondered if Barney ever thought about him too.

Tucking the photo away, Clint slung the bag around his good shoulder before climbing down. He glanced around the old barn one last time. A lot of what was in there had been left by the previous owner who didn’t feel like hauling away the old cars and his old tools. Leaving it all behind wasn’t such a sad thought.

Clint walked back out to a waiting America who was sitting on the hood of her car. Clint smiled and joined her, leaning back the way she was to take in some of the sun. That was the good thing about America- she didn’t always have to talk. It was probably why her and Kate got along so well.

“So… James Barnes,” America said. Clint startled and looked over at America, his heart rate picking up. “I won’t tell anyone. Kate hasn’t figured it out yet.” America turned her head and smiled. “You going to be okay?”

“We weren’t dating- and it’s a long story,” Clint said.

“Not what I asked,” America said, reaching over to take his hand. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked again, much softer this time.

Clint nodded before he looked up at the sky above. “Yeah- I think so. I’m just… really tired right now.” 

America let go and sat up. “Come on then. We’ll talk about your terrible life choices another day.”

“Thanks for that,” Clint said with a laugh, following her up.

Staying with America and Kate wasn’t terrible. Kate doted on Lucky, which meant Clint was free to sleep and rest. All he had was a couch to sleep on, but Clint had certainly slept on worse. It wasn’t like he had to stay there long- just long enough to come up with a plan.

That night when America and Kate went to bed, Clint grabbed his backpack and James’. He sat them down and looked in his first. Everything seemed to be in place until he got to the last page of his photo album where a photo was missing. Clint frowned but couldn’t for the life of him remember what that photo was.

James’ bag came with a letter attached to the outside of it, addressed to him. Clint frowned as he plucked the letter off. He made himself comfortable and opened it.

_ Dear Clint, _

_ If you are reading this, it means I have left. It was probably for the best. I shouldn’t have stuck around as long as I had, it was only putting you more and more in danger. The last thing I want to do is repay all your kindness with Hydra finding me, finding us. _

_ There is so much I could tell you but I’m unsure where to even begin. Not only that, but writing it once for Steve to read was hard enough, I’m not sure I am able to write it twice. I just want you to know that I never would have chosen this life for me. The moment Hydra captured me was the moment my life was over. This whole trying to live again thing is harder than what I hope you will ever know. I’m not ashamed to admit that half the time I am scared out of my mind on what will come next. I was in the war for god’s sake and somehow that doesn’t compare to the terror of becoming Hydra’s weapon again. _

_ You have given me so much hope, Clint. It hasn’t been easy, but you have tried to work whatever magic it is that you have. For a few days you have made my heart lighter, let me rest easier, given me a chance I wasn’t sure I even deserved. I have so much to thank you for, I’m not sure I can ever achieve the repayment in this lifetime. I hope you know how truly special you are despite how terrible life has treated you. _

_ I hope someday we can meet again and that you will forgive me for leaving you in whatever way I had to. Know that I did it to protect you. I thought about it a lot- what I would do if I could ever make my way back to you. I hope I am stronger then and can march right up to you and ask you to go out for a cup of coffee with me, though I really shouldn’t be feeding that addiction. There’s a lot of things that I hope I am stronger enough to say by then, because you deserve someone that is going to give you their everything, because I know you will do that for someone else. _

_ Inside the bag is the only thing I can offer you for now. Go out and live your dreams, Clint. Go to Hawaii and explore it. Or take a European vacation- Americans love to visit Europe I hear. Move back to New York, teach the future generation that love for education like you want. Never stop growing or becoming your best self. Use this to help you but be smart about it. Don’t rush to the bank like a dolt and put it all in there at once, thus making the IRS come after you. I know you will figure it out. _

_ Give Lucky some love from me. I’m going to miss him almost as much as I am going to miss you. Take care, Clint. _

_ JBB _

Clint set the letter down and eyed the bag. His fingers twitched before he dragged it closer and opened it up. Money. Stacks of money in plastic bags. And on top of all of the money was another little note. Clint picked it up.  _ PS- this is from Hydra. You deserve to have it more than they do. _ He knew he should turn the money into the police or something- this wasn’t right and it wasn’t his. But it was from Hydra, which made Clint wonder if stealing money from the bad guys was necessarily a bad thing.

Clint smiled a little and tucked James’ note and backpack back inside his own. He could decide what to do with it all later. Nothing had to be decided today, or even this week. After all- he had his whole life ahead of him.

  
  


_ Three years later _

An alarm went off and the children in the classroom all began to dance in their seats, giggling and murmurs erupting from them. Clint dramatically sat up in his seat to a sea of laughter and he turned his alarm off.

“Lets find out dots!” Clint called out and the classroom was in motion. Kids ran to the colored dots on the ground, set up in a circle. Clint stood on his purple dot. “Alright- stretches. Raise your hands up to the sky,” he said, reaching up. The kids around him all dd the same, some popping up on their tip toes while others bounced around their circle. “And let’s touch our toes.” Clint bent forward with the rest of the class, his fingers brushing against his toes. He stayed there for a minute, just like he had with reaching up. “And back to standard position.”

Clint looked around the circle at the smiling, happy faces around him. Kids swayed and danced in their spot and just like every other year, Clint was going to miss this for the next few months. He was going to miss the chorus of laughter, the giggles, the innocence. He was going to miss each and every one of their little faces, voices, lives.

It was the last day of school which was always bittersweet. All of his kids were going to move on to bigger and better things. First grade. Just like every year before, he hoped he had done his job at starting the path to a love for education.

“Okay. Now give fist bumps to those around you,” Clint said, watching the kids moving around to fist bump each other. “Now come give me some!” It was chaos as kids squeezed in, tiny hands reaching, touching his fist, going over each other’s heads. “Now make them explode!” The class shouted a boom. “Alright, now let’s sit and talk.”

Clint folded his legs as he sat on his spot. “Okay class. This whole week we have been talking about how fun and exciting summer can be. Let’s see what we have learned. Who can tell me something safe we do in the summer?” Hands shot up eagerly. “Mister Bryce?” 

“We put on sunscreen!” he cheered.

“That’s right! We have to wear our sunscreen to protect our skin from the sun,” Clint agreed. “Miss Abby, can you tell me why?” 

“Because the sun can burn,” the little girl’s voice said, covering her mouth and giggling.

“Yep. We learned about the three times of burns, didn’t we?” Clint asked, getting a chorus of yeses in reply. “Okay. What else? Mister Dakota?”

“Go to the pool with an adult,” Dakota said with his classic look, the biggest smile on any of the kids’ faces.

“That’s correct!” Clint said. “I know we talked and many of you are going to be taking swim classes this summer. But we  _ always _ go to a pool with an adult. And we don’t run around the pool. Pool safety is important. What do we wear if we can’t swim but we want to go to the deep end?” Clint looked at the hands. “Mister Ben?”

“A life vest or floaties,” Ben said. Ah, his trouble maker. Ben was one of those cases that needed a little extra attention. He was the one who was the most impatient, but also grew the most that year.

“That’s right!” Clint smiled. “And we  _ always _ pick up our toys before leaving so no one trips and hurts themselves.” Clint dramatically slapped his hands down on his knees. “How did I get luck to have a class full of the smartest kids there are?” he asked. “Okay, we have time for one more summer safety point. Let’s see here. Ah yes. Miss Danielle- can you add something please?” he asked. 

Danielle had been his quiet child this year, the only that was the hardest to pull out of her shell. Clint worked hard to find that balance to make sure she was okay and felt comforted throughout the school year. He didn’t have favorites, at least that’s what told everyone who asked if he had favorite students- he couldn’t name a favorite because each of them were so unique in their own way and taught him something new. But if he  _ had _ to pick a favorite from this year, he knew who he would pick.

Clint couldn’t hear a word Daniel said as she hid behind her arms. “Uh oh! Mister Clint didn’t hear a word of what Miss Danielle said. Can the class help me out?” he asked, cupping his hands around his ears.

“Miss Danielle said that we should drink a lot of water,” Peter said. Peter was definitely going to be a teacher’s pet, and was wicked smart. So okay- maybe he had two favorites, not that he would ever date to admit it.

“Oh, Miss Danielle! That is maybe the most important one of them all,” Clint said with a gentle smile. “That’s right. With the temperature getting hot, we need to stay hydrated. The best way to do that is with water.”

Clint checked the time before he made it to his feet. “Okay kids! Life motto time! Let’s stand up!” Everyone kid got to their feet. “Motto number one!”

“We are smart!” the class said back to him.

“Motto number two!”

“We are kind!” they said, just a little bit louder.

_ “ _ What’s motto number three.”

_ “ _ We are worth it!”

_ “ _ Shout it out so Miss Monica’s class can be jealous!” Clint cheered. The kids all shouted it loudly before they dissolved into laughs and giggles. Clint smiled proudly at the kids. “That’s right. We are all smart in our own way. We are always kind because everyone deserves a little kindness. And we are all worth it- all the love and all the good things. Now- let's go collect our backpacks, okay?”

After checking each backpack and each desk, Clint lined his class up for their last walk out to the waiting buses and cars. As soon as the bell rang, he led them out. Each kid gave their own version of a high five- whether it be a special handshake they taught him over the year, a fist bump, or even a hug. Clint stood outside and watched them all until each of them was safely tucked away. 

Clint whistled as he made it back into his classroom, turning his phone over to play some music as he started cleaning up. The sooner he did it the sooner he could enjoy his summer off. He pulled a cart out and started stacking his supplies or pencils and paper, crayons and glitter. He checked the desks again, wiping down the surfaces that had been touched.

This was the first summer in a long time that Clint didn’t actually have vacation plans. Sure, he was going to go to Michigan for his yearly trip, but Kate and America were coming to New York for a week to visit as well. He had taken James’ advice. He had traveled to Hawaii, and he even made it to Europe. But this year felt different- this year Clint didn’t particularly want to go anywhere, which was fine he thought- he didn’t have to do anything exciting every year.

It was about an hour later before someone tapped on his door. “In the back,” Clint called, cleaning out the cubby holes where the children had kept their belongings. He was removing their names, smiling at each little doodle. He set each name tag to the side like he did every year, committed to writing notes just in case a student ever came back to him.

“Hey.”

Clint recognized that voice, it’s low drawl. Clint’s heart quickened as he lowered his arms and peeked around his shoulder. Three years was a long time to miss someone you never thought you would see again. Clint never thought he’d ever see the storm behind those blue eyes calm, nor did he expect to see the tired bags under his eyes gone. He never thought he would see that hair tied up in a bun again, pieces coming out messily but looking so right. Unlike last time where his lips seemed to stay down in a neutral look, there was a slight curve to them, a smile or smirk ready to peek out at any moment.

“James?” Clint asked, turning around.

James smiled and took a half step forward, almost like he was nervous to get too close. “My friends call me Bucky.” 

Clint wasn’t sure how to take that, if he even wanted to believe it. He looked  _ good _ , refreshed and dare Clint say happy. He wore relaxed fitting jeans and a short sleeved shirt, not a smudge of dirt in sight on either article of clothing. Everything about him looked and felt lighter, like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Looks like you came back to New York,” James said. Clint nodded. “I hope that means you went to Hawaii too.”

Clint smiled, a bit of tension leaving him finally, his head clearing up a bit from the suddenness of James being there. “Yeah, thanks to someone, I did. A whole month last year. I learned to surf, went on a hike to the top of a volcano. It was…” Clint felt like he could finally breathe. “You’re here,” he said, his voice catching. “Shit, I swear I am better than this but I just said goodbye to seventeen little faces and now you’re here and-” Clint rubbed his face, trying to settle himself down.

“Hey,” James said gently, before Clint felt his arms around him. Clint wrapped his arms around James, tucking his face away. “I told you I’d come back to you. Might have taken me longer than I intended but I’m better now. From the looks of it, you are too.”

Clint nodded and didn’t let go. Three years of wondering if he was okay, if he had been caught by Hydra, dragged back to whatever miserable existence haunted him. Three years of wondering if the chance meeting was all he was going to get, a few short days of getting to know someone who had been beaten down and was finding his way back up. 

It had been silly to think about all the what ifs- he should have been thankful that James had left and his life went back to normal. It wasn’t like everything started off well. Clint had been terrified, had questioned every choice he had made those few short days, questioned every emotion he went through. He had considered seeing a therapist, attempting to work out what was normal and what wasn’t, learn from it. In the end Clint had decided to trust his gut because it never led him astray yet, which meant living with every messy memory and emotion from those days, the good and the bad.

“I’d like to start this over, if you’ll let me,” James said as he took a step back from Clint. “We did everything wrong, and I’d like to put it right. So… would you like to grab coffee and catch up?”

Clint looked around. “I… I can’t right now,” he said. “I have to clean up here first. I have until the end of the week to get everything together and-”

“Let me help you then,” James said. He looked around and grabbed the wipes Clint had set up. He held the package up with that barely there smile that Clint had learned to love. “If you want me to that is.”

“Okay, but I mean- I have very high expectations,” Clint said.

“Oh you do?” James asked.

“You can’t just go wiping things all willynilly. There are crayon scuff marks that need to be erased and everything,” Clint said, trying to keep his lips from turning up to a smile. “And if you do it right, maybe you’ll even get one of the big stickers.”

James faked a gasp. “I can earn a big sticker?” he asked, forcing a laugh out of Clint. “Well then, I can’t disappoint Mister Barton-”

“That’s my father’s name. All my friends call me Mister Clint,” Clint mused.

James pulled out the first wipe. “Well then, Mister Clint, I better get to work. Does this big sticker come with a yes to the coffee date?” he asked.

Clint nodded then forced himself to look away, no longer to hide smile. “I think I can be convinced.” James started getting to work, turning face the cubby and scrub away the crayon marking. “James?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy you’re here,” Clint said before he reached up to pull off a name tag carefully.

Clint chanced a glance, watched as the smile grew on James’s face before he ducked his head down. “I’m happy I am too,” James agreed.


End file.
